Dreaming of White
by 23Sammy
Summary: "In the end it was her choice. But every possible scenario he came up with ended with the same thing. A broken heart. Either his. Or Lisbon's." A romantic offer, jealousy, heartache, daydreams and in the middle of it all a crazy killer on the loose in an approaching snow-storm. What could possibly go wrong? Spoilers for 6x15 & beyond. Jisbon. Angsty fluffy multi-chapter :)
1. Blurred Vision

_Warning: Spoilers! Set in the future somewhere around the end of season 6, therefore, well… spoilery ;-) Also: There will be snow ;-)  
_

_A/N: I seem to have started a short multi-chapter. Which scares me a bit. But my best friend told me to post it, so I will. As usual a bit nervous, because unfortunately English still isn't my native language and this is only my second Mentalist fic. A huge, huge thank you for the reviews and favs on my first fic *hugs everyone*. After not being able to write anything for so long, that meant the world to me._

_Disclaimer: I own nothing, except for the typos. They are mine. And mine alone._

* * *

Lisbon watched the birds. The lake was almost completely frozen over and more than a dozen ducks were bobbing on a small stretch of water around the shore, frantically paddling back and forth, bumping into and over each other, fighting for the last of the bread-crumbs an elderly woman had tossed into the lake a few minutes ago. The sight of a single Canada goose in the midst of the jumble of feathers and wings and beaks and quacking noises caught her attention. It just sat there, still and dignified, legs under the water only moving when the waves caused by one or more over-excited ducks threatened to push it closer towards the ice. Once, it turned its head and looked over the frozen lake, neck stretched in either alarm or curiosity, Lisbon couldn't really tell. Maybe it was looking for the rest of its flock. After a while, the goose lowered its head, bending its long black neck, its beak almost touching the dark water. Then it closed its eyes.

Lisbon got up from the bench and walked over to the shore. The movement had not been missed by the ducks, who, in anticipation of food, splashed and flapped over to her, quacking loudly and looking up at her with greedy eyes. Lisbon crouched down and ignoring the ducks, said in a low voice.

"Hey there, handsome. You look kind of lonely."

She didn't expect the goose to acknowledge her presence, let alone her words, but was strangely touched and happy when the bird lifted its head and looked at her.

Then suddenly the view became blurry, a cloud of steam obscuring her sight, leaving nothing but a smudge of black, brown, soft grey and white. When her eyes refocused, the rim of a take-away coffee-cup came into view.

"You really have a heart for lost creatures, don't you?", an amused voice said.

Lisbon got up, wrapping her cold hands around the coffee-cup and flashing him a quick smile she didn't really feel.

"Thanks for the coffee."

He shrugged while taking a sip from his own cup, not wasting time to separate the two actions.

_Efficient as usual_, Lisbon thought and wondered for the millionth time when and why it had shifted from being something that was actually a positive trait to something that slightly annoyed her. She took a sip from her coffee and made a face. Whatever this was, there was more sugar than coffee in it.

"Too much caramel?"

"No, it's fine", she said and he sat down on the bench without further comment. She didn't know if he had spotted the lie. She supposed he had not. She felt a little disappointed. This was another thing that now gradually turned from exciting and actually quite liberating into something rather less positive. Plus, after four months you could expect him to remember what kind of coffee she liked. It wasn't like you needed your own memory palace for that.

She sat down next to him, close enough for their knees to touch, but at an angle that kept her upper body close to the outer regions of his personal space.

This, however, he noticed.

"Everything alright?"

"Fine."

He took another sip of coffee, his left hand fishing the cell-phone out of his jacket pocket. She looked over at the lake while he checked his e-mails. The ducks had moved on, following a young couple with a kid. The girl threw pieces of a chocolate muffin towards the ducks, delighted at the excited noises the birds were making. While the ducks drifted off into the winter afternoon, the goose was still there, now hovering right at the shore and still looking over at her, like it was ready to jump out of the water and waddle over to her if she called it. She was tempted to try.

"Don't even think about adopting him, we are not putting up with another stray", Marcus laughed and putting an arm around her shoulders pulled her closer. When he felt her tense, he added.

"We can get a dog, though."

"We don't have time for a dog", she replied, ignoring the rest of the remark. She knew what or rather whom he was referring to and even understood why he sometimes felt the need to say things like that. It was simply a guy thing. But that didn't mean it didn't annoy her. For various reasons.

"I'm sure I can convince Kenny and Jake from next door to dog-sit. They love animals."

"Then why don't you get _them_ a dog?"

She flinched a little at the sharpness of her own words. Heavens, she'd sounded pretty bitchy just now.

"Sorry. I'm a little jumpy today", she said, trying to let herself sink into his embrace to show him she really hadn't meant it. "Probably just the case. It's frustrating."

"Understandable", he agreed. But didn't really understand.

They sat in silence for a while, Marcus taking one of her gloved hands in his. She looked at their joined hands and wondered - also for the millionth time - what the hell she was doing. This was a good relationship. This was a good, mentally stable, reliable, funny, sexy man who cared about her a lot and who had really gone to great length to make this work. She had expected nothing more than a one-night-stand at first, nothing more than releasing tension and having a bit of fun. Uncomplicated and emotionally non-threatening in every way. She had deserved that. She had needed that. But he had been persistent - which - especially with the added complication of a very watchful, very suspicious and very jealous partner/best friend/general-pain-in-the-neck hovering by her side almost 24/7 during the first few weeks of their acquaintance - must have been extremely difficult. But somehow he had managed to not kill Jane *and* hold on to her and so now she found herself in an actual relationship. Things had been good for a while. Then she had started to do what she always did when things were "good for a while". She'd started to doubt it could last. She'd started to look for reasons why it wouldn't.

And then Cho had mentioned New York.

"You know he's applied for the job before he came over here?", he'd said calmly and she had nodded and smiled and said "Sure", hoping that Jane was on the other side of the room and out of earshot - and sight. Without meaning to she had automatically glanced in the direction of the couch and almost flinched when his eyes met hers across a dozen desks and two windows. He'd frowned worryingly at her. She'd looked away and avoided him for the rest of the day, but not before swearing Cho to secrecy.

"You think Jane knows?"

"No."

"Please don't tell him, he's going to assume all kinds of things and freak out."

"The wrong kind of things?"

She didn't have an answer then, but Cho had simply nodded and that was that.

Truth was, she still didn't have an answer now. Marcus had never mentioned it, so maybe he had withdrawn his application. Or gotten turned down already. She'd been too anxious to check for herself, if the position had been filled yet, knowing that if it hadn't it would drive her crazy.

Not that ignoring things worked much better.

What annoyed her most, though, was that neither was a course of action she'd usually take. But the case they had been working on for the past 3 weeks was draining and difficult and upsetting and she simply hadn't wanted to open that particular can of worms on top of everything else. Jane - naturally - had noticed that something was wrong, but after prodding and probing and coaxing for a week, he had given up - but only after she had threatened to punch him back to South America if he didn't back off.

She felt guilty about it, but sometimes with Jane, there was no other option than to use drastic measures and she was still a little annoyed with him for all the mischief he had caused at the beginning of her relationship with Marcus.

Marcus checked his phone again. Lisbon frowned.

"Any news from the rest of the team?"

"No."

They had three separate crime scenes to work, so they had split up. Fischer and Abbott - the latter seeming glad to be back in the field - where investigating the first one, her and Marcus had checked out the second one and Jane and Cho were covering the third one.

"Road trip with my best bud. Boys only. This is going to be fun", Jane had quipped happily. Cho had said nothing, only blinked once. Lisbon had laughed. Marcus had left the room.

"This is lovely" Marcus suddenly said with a sigh.

"What?"

"Us. Here. On this lovely bench on this lovely day."

"It's not lovely, it's freezing cold."

"Really? I had't noticed", he said, scooting closer and pressing his lips to her neck.

"Marcus…"

She pushed him off, blushing slightly as an elderly couple walked past them.

"This is our lunch break, so for…" he checked his phone "…another 15 minutes we are officially off duty."

"I don't think it works like that."

"No, but I think we can bend the rules a little. Not that I normally would. But for you…", he grinned and leaned in for a kiss. She kissed him back, forcing doubt, annoyance and every other negative feeling out of her mind. This case *was* getting to her and every bit of comfort in the middle of this was welcome. She almost succeeded, but something was still there, tiny, but resistant, calling out from somewhere deep inside her. She wasn't sure if it was a warning or a protest or doubt, but it grew louder with every day that passed. Sometimes she thought she recognised the voice. And it wasn't her own. Which was - usually - the moment stubbornness claimed her and she firmly closed her eyes and ears to it. Damn it, this was her life. Hers. And no one had the right to tell her what to do with it. She was done being pushed around and being used and abandoned. Her life. Her decisions. Her love life. Her boyfriend. Her choice.

She wondered how Jane was doing 200 miles north of her and if he as ok.

Marcus nodded towards the older couple on the bench.

"Isn't this wonderful? Look at them. Still happy, after spending a life-time together."

Lisbon wanted to point out, that they had actually no clue if those two had actually spent more than ten minutes together. Jane could probably tell - simply by looking at the dirt on his shoes or the state of her socks or the way she leaned her head on his shoulder.

"I suppose."

"I mean", he went on, hugging her closer to him. "you can tell how much they are in love, content to be together, sitting here now, probably reminiscing about how they met and where life took them on their journey together."

He smiled dreamily, then his lips curled up into a happy grin. "Sorry. You seem to have turned me into a hopeless romantic."

She said nothing, just raised a careful eyebrow at him. Clearly, he needed to elaborate. Which gave him the perfect opportunity to finally approach a subject that had been on his mind for a few days now. This calm winter afternoon was perfect. This scene was perfect. She was perfect. He was one lucky bastard, he thought, smiling at her beautiful face, then turning his head, nodding towards the couple on the other bench.

"Just imagine, one day this will be us. I can already see it in my mind. You. Me. Together. On a bench like this. At a lake. Or a river. Or the ocean. Just us. Looking back at a life full of joy. Probably watching our grand-children play close by. Just picture it. Close your eyes, imagine it. Looks great, doesn't it?"

When she didn't reply after a few seconds he turned his head and looked at her.

"You ok?" he asked, confusion written all across his face. She looked like a frightened deer caught in the headlights of a car.

"Teresa?"

And if he had realised in that moment how accurate this description actually was, maybe, just maybe he would have chosen his next words more carefully.

Or kept quiet...


	2. Road Trip

A/N: Wow, thank you for all the reviews on the first chapter. Was lucky enough to find some time to write today, so here's what's happening 200 miles further north. Hope you like it :)

* * *

There was no colour left in the world. Just endless greyish nothingness, wherever he looked. Well, actually, he would see shades of black, blue, brown - not to mention blonde, if he turned around, but that was not really advisable while doing 80 miles per hour. He'd also see a great mess of papers, maps, photographs, at least three empty paper-cups and a suspiciously high number of empty chocolate-bar-wrappers. So for the added reason of keeping his inner peace, Cho kept his eyes fixed on the road, which was a darker shade of nothingness, but still seemingly endless. And a lot less messy.

They had passed the last car half an hour ago.  
It had been a silver-grey mini-van.

_Fitting_, Cho had thought with slight amusement.

Behind him, Jane shuffled around restlessly. Cho heard the startled rustling of paper. Then a protesting crunching sound, as something was stuffed somewhere it clearly didn't want to be. Apparently Jane was done scanning reports and maps and was now busying himself with spreading the printouts of crime-scene photographs across the spacious back-seat of the SUV.

Cho added "red" to the list of colours he would see if he turned around now.

"This is no good", Jane mumbled. Cho had stopped listening to the constant stream of conversation from the back-seat 107 miles ago, but now tuned back in, sensing that the last four words were actually related to the case.

"What isn't?"

"The photos. Something's not right, something's missing. Cho, do we have any showing the whole scene? And the surrounding area?"

"Everything we've got is in the back-seat with you", Cho said. Jane huffed, then there was another shuffling sound, clearly the result of Jane leaning down to check if something had fallen off the seat. Then the sound of hands sliding searchingly over fabric. Then another frustrated huff.

"He should have thought about providing some", Jane said, a clearly audible frown in his tone. After three more sentences, all containing the name Marcus Pike, Cho zoned out of the conversation again, before he could feel emotionally compromised by the topic. Why did people always assume he wanted to know about their unsuccessful and clumsy attempts at romance? Or their existent or non-existent love-lives?

Though he had to admit that in this case, he was at least a little intrigued how it would play out in the end. Not to mention more than a little worried. Lisbon was, after all, his friend. And so - even though it was a frightening thought - was Jane. But the passive annoyance at the latter's current obsession with the subject outweighed the worry right now.

"You are not really listening to me, are you?" Jane suddenly said and Cho cast a quick glance in the mirror to see him straighten up in mild bewilderment.

"No."

"I might have said something important", Jane pointed out indignantly.

"You didn't."

"How can you tell if you weren't listening?"

"Experience."

"Experience?"

Cho gave him a look in the mirror. Then explained.

"Rigsby."

Jane made an irritated noise. "You are seriously comparing me to Rigsby?"

Cho gave the question some serious thought, then said:

"Yes."

Jane leaned forward, hands gripping the head-rest of the passenger seat.

"First you don't listen to me and then you compare me to Rigsby. What have I ever done to you, my dear friend, to deserve such harsh treatment?"

Now Cho did turn his head to look at him. "You really want me to answer that?"

Jane rolled his eyes and let himself drop back into the seat with a defeated sigh. Cho gave the tiniest of amused snorts, eyes returning to the road.

"This really feels like old times", he said.

"What, you insulting me?" Jane mumbled from somewhere behind him. "Yes, I do have very fond memories of that", he added with sarcasm.

"So do I", Cho agreed.

Jane leaned forward again, ignoring the last remark. "So tell me, in what way am I even remotely comparable to Rigsby? What striking similarities do we possess? Did he ever solve a case from the back-seat of a car?"

"No. But neither have you so far", Cho pointed out, then added: "But I had to listen to him babbling on like a jealous, love-sick teenager for hours every time Van Pelt looked at anything even remotely male."

"I am not jealous. How can you think that? Grace is a dear friend and if you recall, I played an important part in their wedding, so I repeat my question: How do I compare to Rigsby?", Jane asked, voice rising with something that sounded close to righteous anger.

Cho kept his eyes on the road.

"So, you weren't moaning and bitching about Lisbon's boyfriend for the last hour and a half?"

"Ha! How could you tell if you weren't listening?"

Cho didn't answer, just gave another snort, this time deliberately loud enough for Jane to notice. He heard Jane lean back in his seat again, contemplating something. Then, in a suddenly light and conversational tone he heard him say:

"So what do you think of him, then?"

Cho flashed him a serious glance in the mirror.

"I am not discussing Lisbon's love life with you, Jane."

"I am not asking you to, Cho" Jane replied, drawing out the words, then added with an innocent smile that was actually audible: "I just want to know your opinion on a fellow agent who somehow seems to have rather mysteriously joined our team."

"Nothing mysterious about it", Cho said, adding in his head.

_Nothing permanent either._

"Ha!"

Jane's sudden outcry made Cho grip the steering-wheel a little tighter. It was, Jane thought, noticing the tension in the other man's muscles, Cho's equivalent of a flinch. He also thought, he was lucky Cho was driving, anyone else had probably steered them into the next ditch. Then again, if anyone else was driving they probably wouldn't have had this conversation.

Jane's mind snapped back to the thought that had preceded his outburst. Slowly he moved his body to the edge of the seat again, leaning forward, until his face was close to the back of Cho's head. Then he whispered.

"There is something you are not telling me, Special Agent Cho, isn't there?"

Cho, seemingly unfazed by his close proximity, just shrugged.

"That surprises you? There are a lot of things I am not telling you, Jane."

"Deniability?"

"No. Self-preservation."

"Ouch."

Jane beat his hand against his chest. "Once again, I am hurt, my friend."

He watched Cho tilting his head, as if contemplating this, then shaking it.

"No, you are not. You are just nosy."

Jane laughed. Leave it to Cho to be blunt. And precise. He loved conversations like that. He had missed them. Lisbon hadn't been a particularly good sport these past few weeks when it came to little conversational duels. Most of the time she had cheated and not won by skill of wit, but by brute force, slapping him on the arm or kicking his shins under the table.

Which he had deserved.

_Every. Single. Time._

"Do I have any reason to be nosy?", Jane asked, letting himself once again settle back into the surprisingly comfortable seat and crossing his arms behind his head. He closed his eyes for a second, a wave of fatigue suddenly settling into his bones and muscles. He biofeedbacked them away with adjusting his breathing-pattern accordingly. They still had to compare and cross-reference as much information as possible on the two other crime-scenes before they reached their destination. Well, he had. Cho's task, obviously, was to stay awake so they would actually get there. He blinked. Cho had fallen suspiciously quiet. Not that "quiet" was unusual for Cho, but Jane had learned to differentiate the different modes of silence surrounding his friend. This one, he noticed, was "passive calmness", usually applied when Cho didn't want to talk about something.

_So there was something to be nosy about after all. Interesting._

"So?", Jane asked.

"So what?"

"Marcus Pike. Thoughts?"

"He's cool."

"Cool? What kind of answer is that? Come on, Cho, give me something to work with."

Cho shook his head. "Jane, I'll say it again, I will not discuss Lisbon's love life with you and that includes voicing any opinion on and/or gossiping about her partner."

"I'm her partner" Jane said indignantly and this time he didn't have to fake it. It cut through him like a knife. He may not be what he wanted to be in her life, but at least he was still that. Her partner.

"Fine." Cho sighed. "Her boyfriend then."

Jane realised that hearing this particular term in connection with Pike wasn't less painful either. It was accurate though.

Unfortunately there was nothing he could do about it for now. It wasn't for lack of trying, though.

He had tried. Hard.

Until she had put a stop to it.

Looking back, he couldn't really blame her. After all, he'd been a childish, annoyed, jealous and manipulative pain in the neck for weeks. During the "conversation" (he tried not to call it by its real name during daytime hours) she had made it clear that she was in a relationship now and flirting - even if it was "just him" - her words - was out of the question. So apparently was tricking her into spending time with him or pick-pocketing, messing with or irking her boyfriend. And of course, reading her boyfriend and telling her about his - rather negative - findings. That was on top of her list. Of course in the weeks leading up the introduction of these rules he'd done all of the above - and more - in abundance. The fear of losing her to another man had made him pull out all the stops all at once without thinking, auto-piloting his way through the sudden jumble of fear, jealousy and annoyance at suddenly being confronted with an unexpected rival. Which, of course, meant he'd done all the wrong things, tried every trick in the book to get her away from the annoyingly handsome and irritatingly charming Marcus Pike. In the end all he'd achieved with this course of action was that Lisbon was nervous and jumpy as a grasshopper-mouse every time her two "men" were in the same room together and constantly annoyed with him up to the point where she threatened to cause grievous bodily harm on an almost daily basis. When her genuine distress had finally registered with him through the haze of jealousy and panic that surrounded him, he knew he had done the one thing, he had sworn never to do again.

Hurt her.

So he told her that he was sorry and promised that he'd stop messing and that he was glad, she was happy. She deserved to be happy. She had been relieved and had hugged him fiercely for a moment, but still felt the need to clarify afterwards what constituted as "messing" in her book. He'd had no choice but to accept it. For now at least.

Shaking the uneasy feeling that had started to replace the fatigue under his skin, he took up the conversation again, hoping to replace thinking about his own faults with finding out more about the faults of apparently flawless, handsome, emotionally uncompromised, straight as an arrow, law-abiding, ambitious Marcus Pike. If only to make him feel better.

"Come on, Cho, help a guy out here!" he tried again.

"Jane. For the last time. I will not talk about Pike and Lisbon with you."

Jane leaned forward and put his hand on Cho's shoulder in an apologetic gesture. "I totally understand, Cho. This puts you in a difficult position and I apologise for putting you there by asking to talk about the private affairs of a colleague."

He was rewarded with a rare sight: Cho turned to him in genuine surprise.

"Thanks, man. Appreciate that."

Jane grinned, the hand that had rested on Cho's shoulder now patting it lightly.

"I mean it, you don't have to say anything. Just nod or blink, if you think I'm right."

Cho turned his head and gave him an exasperated look.

"Or glare at me. That'll work, too", Jane said with a serious nod.

"Jane…"

"Seriously, though. Don't you think she deserves better? I mean, he is a little… boring"

"He's a good catch."

Jane rolled his eyes. "Oh please, how so?"

"He's a good agent. Ambitious. Smart. Reliable. He's going to rise through the ranks in no time, he… Do you really want me to go on?"

"I thought you didn't want to discuss Lisbon's love life with me." Jane remarked casually, deliberately letting a little annoyance at the repeated praise of the man seep through his words.

"I don't."

"Well, then stop it."

"You started all of this, Jane. Don't be a jerk. You are not seriously annoyed with me now?"

"No, I'm not. I just think it is unprofessional to discuss the private affairs of team-members without them being present" Jane replied with feigned dignity and a smugness he didn't really feel, distracted by something Cho had said. Though he didn't really get what it was yet.

When he did, a few minutes of silence and about 10 miles later, his head jerked up in alarm.

"Cho?"

"Hm?"

"The FBI is looking for someone to head up the New York office, are they not? Do you know if they already found someone for the job?"

He watched Cho's hands grip the steering-wheel tighter.

That was all the answer he needed.

But right now, he had no idea what to do with it. Because every possible scenario he came up with as a result of that answer ended with the same thing.

A broken heart.

Either his. Or Lisbon's.


	3. Endless Winter Cold

A/N: Thank you for the reviews on chapter 2. Made my day. And thank you for reading this one. Which is a bit longer. And a little angsty. And I'll shut up now. Right. Nervous. Again. *So* hope you like it :)

* * *

It was cold. Really cold. The kind of dry clean cold that didn't need wind or rain or snow to make its presence known. Sometime in the night it had silently crept into the valley and breathed an icy welcome onto every living and artificial thing, spreading frost over trees, bushes, meadows, houses and trees. He watched in silence as the sun finally made an reluctant appearance and the first light of day touched the frost and ice and turned the meadow and the trees in front of him into a sea of sparkling diamonds, something straight out of a fairy tale.

He had almost forgotten about real, vast and seemingly endless winter cold, having spent so many years in places where cold was either artificial or emotional, something that was confined to rooms with overactive air-conditioning or people.

Or himself.

This cold, all around him, biting at his nose, clawing at his skin, turning his breath into tiny clouds and slowly melting into the fabric of his jacket, was different. Clean. Pure. Silent. And most importantly: Outside of him.

Well, for now at least.

He knew he should get back inside or at least start moving, before the winter wind threatened him with the prospect of hypothermia or a decent cold. But he found himself unable to do either and therefore willing to risk both. Because the cold, now pushing gently through his clothes and making his face and hands numb, brought a peace and silence with it, that he quite enjoyed. He hadn't felt this calm and relaxed in months (3 months, 2 weeks and 3 days to be precise).

He knew this state of mind wouldn't last long, expecting it to be shattered either by news about the case or Lisbon.

Lisbon. Who hadn't called. Or texted him back. Who was out there somewhere either celebrating or biting back tears.

He hated not knowing which.  
He also hated how some part of him, quite a big part of him actually, was hoping for the latter.  
He desperately wanted to see her.

He closed his eyes, drawing the icy winter air into his lungs and releasing it again in a long sigh, opening his eyes again just in time to see it dissolve in the morning light. He smiled and looked towards the sky, then frowned. There'd be snow. Rather sooner than later.

And probably a lot of it.

Which was a problem. A big problem.

They had reached the small town of Barnes Hollow yesterday afternoon. Too late apparently to head up to the crime-scene, which lay, very inconveniently situated, in a less than idyllic ravine halfway up Barnes Mountain.

"And what is that called?", Jane had asked the local sheriff. He'd expected it to go by the same name as virtually everything else in and around this town. Folks here didn't seem to have much of an imagination.

"It's a ravine." The man said with unhidden surprise at the question. "It doesn't need a name."

"Ah."

_Make that no imagination at all._

At least if the sheriff was anything to go by. This man didn't need a name either. He was "the sheriff": Mid-Forties, slim built and physically fit, though not by exercise, but by circumstance - meaning a wife that didn't do cooking well and a job that made him walk uphill a lot - as suggested by the marks on the soles of his worn boots. The uniform was spotless, a deep blue with a simple white and blue badge on each arm and came not with a hat but just a simple blue baseball-cap with the town's crest on it.

Jane noted this rather thankfully.  
Sheriffs' uniforms still creeped him out.  
For obvious reasons.

Jane let his gaze wander around the small office, noticing deep scrapes and a dark circular patch on the floor around the office chair. No marks on the table though.

_Spends a lot of time here, evenings, too, so the cleaner doesn't get to that space around the desk very often. But doesn't put his feet up on the table. Desk clean and ordered, but not with precision. Again. An issue of time rather than cleanliness. As in having more than enough of it to keep things in order rather than the urge or need to do so._

Posters on the wall. Not most-wanted- and crime-prevention-ad-posters, but scenic photographs. Of the mountain. Which was just outside the window. But looking out the window meant daydreaming. Idling. Which this man had no idea how to accomplish. One photograph of the wife on the table. No kids, though. But they had a dog. Something medium-sized judging from the position of the dog hair on the left leg of his trousers. Obviously trained as a rescue dog. And probably called Rover. Or Barnes. Yes, probably Barnes. The wife calls it Barney though, when he's not around. And she feeds it all the good stuff.

_She'd going to leave you within the next two weeks. And take the dog with her. And even if I warn you now, you will do nothing about it. Because you wouldn't know what._

"The road goes up to the ridge, then there's a track leading to a couple of cabins and the ravine itself. Bumpy, but manageable with a good 4x4."

Jane watched, as the man folded up a map that had already been on the table when they arrived. Most people couldn't fold a map even if they gave it their full brain-power and an extra pair of hands. This man did it without taking his eyes off him and Cho.

"But you won't make it today. Light's gonna be gone in an hour or so. And you don't want to drive back down here in the dark."

The map landed on the top of a stack of reports.

"No one wants to do that", he added, before either Jane or Cho could suggest getting a local guide. "And that includes me."

Cho frowned. The sheriff seemed detached from the whole case. Not at all bothered by it. When Jane didn't either seem to notice or deem it necessary to comment on it, Cho did.

"Victim not one of our people. Stranger", the sheriff shrugged as if that was explanation enough.

"Whole thing is weird. Our people don't do weird when it comes to crime."

Jane looked up. "You mean the locals are more of a shooting-their-victims-kind-of-murderers?"

"If you want to put it that way, yes, Sir. Last time was eight years ago. A domestic. Biggest trouble we have around here is the occasional theft of equipment, drunken fights on the weekends and road accidents."

"And search and rescue on the mountain, I presume?"

"A lot of it. Deputy and me, we're basically the rangers here, too. Keeping an eye on the cabins and the tourists who rent them. Hikers. Hunters. And a lot of people who only think they are either and get themselves into trouble out there."

"Victim a hunter?" Cho asked. The sheriff shrugged. "Don't think so."

"Where did you take him?"

"Who?"

"The victim. The body."

"Nowhere."

Cho blinked. As did Jane.  
Their surprise was synched to perfection.  
Which, in the grand scheme of things, was rare.

"You mean, he is still *up there*?"

"Not by the book, but seemed the best option. As cold up there as in the freezer at the nearest morgue - which is 40 miles away. Besides…"

The man tossed a couple of photographs on the table.

"In order to get him out we'd have to destroy the whole crime-scene. Need torches and ice-picks and stuff. Probably melt evidence. So I thought you really should see this for yourselves, M.E. and all the tech guys won't be here until tomorrow morning either, so…"

Jane stared at the photographs. They showed what appeared to be an ice-sculpture of a man raising his arms towards the sky. Only it wasn't a sculpture. There was a dead man inside the ice. Reaching for the sky.

"Oh. Right", Jane said, then to Cho. "That's water then. He's moved on to the element of water and this is getting more and more elaborate. This is a message. Something that demands an audience."

Cho caught on quickly. "So you think he might still be around?"

Jane nodded.

"Right" Cho said. "I think we need some backup here" and reached for his phone.

Cho was still on the phone when they went back to the small motel on the edge of town. Which in this case meant: A three minute walk down the main street. They had agreed to get to the crime scene first thing in the morning - forensics, backup or anyone else present or not. Neither of them trusted the local authorities - which consisted of one deputy stationed up the mountain to watch over the frozen body - to keep the area undisturbed indefinitely. The weather report wasn't looking good either.

Which was why Jane was standing now on the street on a frosty winter morning. Waiting for Cho so they could finally get a move on. And he desperately wanted to, feeling the calm slowly slipping away now, his mind kick starting itself out of the mini-hibernation he had tricked it into earlier.

Thinking about anything - even if it was a frozen corpse and a killer who was apparently a bat-shit crazy new age pagan celebrating the power of the elements — was better than to torture himself with things he had no influence on, no control over and no way of knowing how they would end.

He tried to coax himself back into a relaxed state, drawing in another deep breath, letting the cold seep into him, until the tension went out of his shoulders. He closed his eyes with another deep sigh, bathing once more in the silence of the morning.

It was shattered by the slamming of a car door, followed by a curse.

Right now, it was the best sound in the world.

Keeping the smile on his face and only opening his eyes when he was sure they wouldn't betray his surprise, he said brightly.

"Good morning, sunshine!"

Lisbon, who hadn't noticed him standing there, spun around with a start, firing another curse into the silence, before glaring at him from some place between the thick wooly scarf she had wrapped around her neck and the hood of her outdoor-jacket.

"Damn it, Jane!"

Which was a polite greeting, really.  
Not curse number three.

She was standing with her back to the morning sun, which, although not strong, was strong enough to make it difficult for Jane to see. And he needed to see. He stepped closer to her and the car, the thin layer of ice on the street crunching beneath his feet.

She didn't move, but he could tell she wanted to. Her hands were stuffed in the pockets of her jacket, the bulge in the fabric telling him that she was clenching her fists, trying to divert all the tension and the nervous energy into her hands. He knew it would crawl back up her arms and settle in her shoulders. Within an hour she'd have a headache. A bad one.

He still couldn't see her face. The only thing clearly visible behind all the protective clothing Lisbon was wearing was the tip of her nose.

The sight was so adorable, that for a moment he forgot everything else and the smile on his face widened and softened at the same time.

"What?" she asked sharply, noticing the shift in his emotions.

Jane considered making a teasing comment on how she was the one member of the team who should be able to cope with this weather, but thought better of it at the last minute. Instead he stopped, keeping the by now customary three steps of neutral space between them. Ever since that particular rule had been put into place, he'd felt irritated, annoyed and awkward about it, but even more so in the rare moments, when his mind was relatively calm and he felt content, even a little happy. It was a state of mind that he associated so profoundly, so deeply with her, that he knew the two were no longer separable.

Not being able to share that feeling in the same personal space was difficult.  
Fearing the measure might not be temporary was unbearable.

He had to know.  
Now.

"Ah, come on, Lisbon, don't be grumpy. It's a beautiful winter's day. The sun's just come up, the air is clear and fresh…"

"There is nothing beautiful about this. Because you think there's a crazy killer out there, Marcus and I have been driving half the night to get here, it's bloody cold and there's snow on the way. Do you know how much damage that can do to evidence at a crime scene?"

"Then we better get a move on", he agreed, making a sweeping gesture with his arm towards the car. She blinked at him suspiciously, always weary when he didn't argue with her.

"You're eager this morning", she said, one gloved hand sneaking out of her pocket and resting on the car-mirror, a touch of nervousness in her voice.

He had to know.  
This was killing him.

He shrugged and gave her a little reassuring smile he didn't feel. "No, I just happen to think you are right about the snow." He looked searchingly down the road.

"So where are the others?"

The gloved hand gripped the mirror tighter.

"They… there's a lead… someone reported finding what looked like open graves just a couple of miles away."

"Earth. The last element", Jane said.

Lisbon nodded, face still hidden in shadow. Her body-language was screaming tension and anxiousness, but only her eyes could tell him the reason for it.

"Cho and Pike are checking it out now…so… it's just… us for now."

_Ah._

This was freaking her out. Them. The prospect of her and him alone in a car. No way to escape. From him. From talking.

His heart sank.  
To the bottom of the deepest ocean.

He took a slow step forward, then another, registering a shiver of nervous tension running through her, as he crossed the invisible border between them. Then finally, he was able to see her eyes hidden in the shadow of the hood.

And everything changed.

"Lisbon…"

"Map. I forgot the map. Stay here. I'll be right back."

And before he could get a single word out, she had fled down the street.

Sh..tu…piddddd

Sh..tu…piddddd

Sh..tu…piddddd

Those were the actual sounds her boots made on the pavement that was covered in ice and old, gritty snow. She was going faster than she probably should have, but she could still feel Jane's presence, knowing that he was looking at her. Which, given that the street was straight as an arrow, he would be able to do until she entered the sheriff's office. The ground was slippery and she forced herself to slow down. Falling on her backside in front of Jane was the last thing she needed. Although she felt like she already had.

Why had no one cleared the ice away yet? It was a health and safety issue, wasn't it?

So, on the other hand, was she, if she didn't calm down.

She shook her head violently, letting out a short growl. She needed to focus. Really focus. Put the personal stuff aside and focus on the job. Which she knew she could have done if she'd be out there with Cho.

Cho. The calm in the storm.

Unfortunately she'd been teamed up with high pressure system Patrick Jane.

Because Pike had beat her to it. The call about the graves had come through to the sheriff's office just as Cho was introducing her and Pike to the man in charge. Pike had argued that, since there was a high probability the culprit was still around, having two "guns" might be the more prudent choice while checking out that particular location. Cho had given her a questioning look and she had nodded. There was no choice really. Jane wasn't a trained law enforcement officer and there was no way her and Pike were able to have each other's backs right now.

And, obviously, there was never any way Jane and Pike would be able to do so.

Ever.

Not before and certainly not now after…

She shook her head again.

_Don't think about it. Just don't. Don't remember. Don't think. Don't._

But of course she did. Images came rushing back. The call from Cho. The silent packing of bags, the only sound in the room the rustling of fabric hastily stuffed away, the thump of the bags being tossed into the boot of the car. The louder thump of closing the boot and a few moments later the doors. The engine starting. And then a long drive into oblivion. One of the longest of her adult life.

It was as if both of them felt the need to make up for the amount of noise they had made before.

Finally reaching the sheriff's office, Lisbon jumped up the steps and finally out of sight, closing the door behind her in something that felt a lot like relief. The sheriff looked up.

"Forgot the map."

He tossed it over to her with a smile.

"Actually you can't miss it. But better safe than sorry. You got the radio?"

"Yes."

"Sure you don't want me to come with?"

And if hadn't looked at her like he thought she was way over her head - little woman cop used to the comforts of city life and a nice desk job - she might have taken him up on the offer. But he did look at her like he thought she couldn't handle a mountain road and a little snow.

"No thanks. We need you to keep us in the loop in case Cho and Pike find something. We'll contact you via the radio once we are there."

"Sure."

When she stepped outside again, her eyes went down the road towards Jane and the car before she could stop herself.

He was nowhere to be seen.

Lisbon walked a few steps down the road, then spotted a small alley between two houses and slipped into it. Leaning her back against the cold wall of the building she closed her eyes. This was actually the first moment she'd been completely alone and she decided that she would allow her mind to replay the thing once - and then shut it away for good.

Stupid. So bloody stupid. Why did he have to do that? Why couldn't he just waited? Or phrased it differently or…

Who was she kidding.

This had nothing to do with timing. Or wit of words.  
This was her.  
Running away.  
Being scared of… losing herself if she committed to someone? Losing control? Losing full stop?  
Being abandoned somewhere down the road? Or was it simply a road she was not willing to take. And if so, why?

"You ok?" he had asked when she had failed to share his daydream about being an old couple watching the grandchildren play. "Can't you see it?" he'd said. Almost pleading with her.

And she had tried.

And failed to see the both of them.

Failed miserably.

But he hadn't noticed her discomfort at the time and instead made things worse.

"I got the job. New York. Running the whole thing up there. And before you say anything… I know we cannot work together directly, even though I think you'd make a brilliant second-in-command but - can't get into details now, too complicated - there's an opening for a team leader that is yours. You just have to say yes. It's all arranged."

Her stomach lurched.

"Marcus…"

"You'll see. It's going to be great. Trust me."

She felt her body starting to tremble and clenched her fists to redirect the energy.

_Oh god…_

"Marcus…"

Her ears started ringing.

"I've put a deposit down for a small but gorgeous flat, you are going to love it. Will be half-way between the two offices, isn't that a great coincidence?"

She couldn't breathe.

"Marcus! Stop!"

He finally did, looking at her in surprise, having expected… what? Wide shiny grateful eyes, like this was a dream coming true? And that was when the feeling of suffocating, of being dragged, pushed, driven into something beyond her control turned into anger. Hot. Anger.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"But I thought you'd be… happy", he said carefully, not quite sure how to proceed.

"I'm happy that you got the job. You deserve it. It's a great career move. Honestly. But I can't accept your offer, I…"

"What are you worried about? That everyone will think you only got the job because of me? That's nonsense, Teresa. You earned it. You are a great cop. A great team leader. I think this is what you are supposed to do. Lead a team. You were brilliant at it. Still would be if it hadn't been for…"

"Don't go there", she hissed, wrenching herself out of his embrace and scooting to the far side of the bench, shooting him an anxious look.

"It's not… that", she said, struggling to keep the anger down, to put her feelings into a good argument he'd understand.

"What is it then?"

"I can't just pack up and leave! Honestly, I'm starting to feel like a tramp. I've just started to settle down in Texas. Make a new life. A new beginning."

"Exactly. Only started to. Which means it's perfect timing. Better than five years down the line when you've gotten used to the place, made new friends."

"I have *old* friends to think about."

Marcus snorted.

"Well, that didn't take long to creep into the conversation"

"What?"

"Jane. Just say it. This is about Jane, isn't it?"

Marcus got up and threw his hands in the air.

"Isn't it, Teresa? What on earth is it with you and him? I mean, even though everyone suspects you are, you are clearly not an item. That much I know. So what the hell is it?"

"We've been through a lot together, ok? He's family. He's…"

She hesitated, searching for the right word. "Important to me, ok? We've been through so much together and even after all of this, we can still laugh together and be comfortable around each other. That is precious. This is a something I will not give up."

"And you say he is just a friend."

"This isn't about Jane! Not everything is about bloody Patrick Jane!"

"No?"

"No! This is about me! I'm done with being pushed around the country like lost luggage, ok? This is my life and I decide where I go and when and with whom. You had no right to make job arrangements on my behalf! No right to buy a bloody flat, for crying out loud, without asking me!"

"It was supposed to be a surprise! I wanted to make you happy!"

Now he was yelling, too. And she understood. Understood that he'd meant well. That all of it was actually something short of a marriage proposal.

_Oh, god, had he planned on going there?_

She pushed the thought away.

This, all of this was actually a wonderful gesture, down to the romantic "can you imagine us in 20 years"-bit and if she had been a different woman with a different past, maybe, just maybe she could have accepted it for what it was - and even been happy about it.

But the only thing she felt was dread.  
And anger. He shouldn't have done that. If he'd just told her about the job and left everything else up to her, maybe, just maybe…

"Then maybe you should have asked me what makes me happy!"

"Maybe I thought I knew!"

"Well, maybe you were wrong!"

He deflated like a balloon and let his body slump back on the bench.

"Clearly", he said quietly.

She took a deep breath, hands now clasped in her lap.

It looked like she was praying.

Maybe she was.

"I'm sorry, Marcus. I… just… I can't come to New York with you."

"Why?"

"I just can't."

"What if I was asking you to. What if I was pleading with you to come with me. Begging you to come with me?"

She felt tears in her eyes.  
She hated it.  
Turned her face away from him.

"I can't."

"I see."

His voice had changed, bitterness running through his words now like poison. She turned her head back at him. Looked at him. Knowing he deserved better than this. Better than her.

"When does it start? Your new job?" she asked quietly.

"In two weeks. This is the last case I'm working here."

"I see."

They both fell quiet for a moment, then he reached out and took her hand. She let him, but didn't squeeze back. She felt empty. Empty and alone.

After a few more moments, he cleared his throat and said:

"But you did it for him, didn't you? Leave everything behind. He didn't even have to ask you in person. He just put your name on a bloody list and you gave up everything you've rebuild over two years within a day."

"It's not the same." It wasn't more than a whisper. She didn't expect this to get through to him, no matter how high she turned up the volume.

"It's exactly the same", he said with a snort.

"Marcus…"

He let go of her hand, then got up.

"On second thoughts, you are right. It's not. I'm your boyfriend. If anything this should be easier by a mile. If it's not, then what does that tell you?"

She blinked herself back to the present, suddenly feeling the skin of her back prickling with cold. She pushed herself away from the wall, away from the image of Marcus, staring down at her with disappointment and defeat and something that had bordered on pity. It was the memory of that look, that propelled her forward now.

_Bastard._  
_Bloody bastard._

She didn't need pity. She needed to focus. On the case. Now.

Taking off one glove, she pushed the remains of the tears she hadn't realised she'd shed out of her face, adjusted the hood of her jacket and stepped back out into the street.

Jane was leaning on the side of the car, staring down at the curb. He could have easily illegally opened the passenger door, but the cold still managed to work a little of its magic and so he'd stayed outside. Thinking. Breathing. Thinking some more. Wondering how to get her to talk to him. How to get her to let him comfort her. Help her through this. And wondering where they'd be at the end of it.

He heard her approach and looked up, forcing a neutral smile onto his face.

"Hey. Got you a coffee. Thought you might need it."

He stretched his arm out, turned his head away, closed his eyes and made a face - as if he was about to feed a wild animal that could be tempted to bite him. The drama of the gesture didn't go unnoticed. She grimaced at him, but felt - to her own surprise - a small smile creeping into what she had planned to be a rather annoyed expression.

"Thank you."

She took a sip from the cup.

The coffee was perfect.

"You're welcome, grumpy", he said.

He lowered his head a little, trying to catch a glimpse of her face under the hood of her jacket. Before he could succeed, she stepped determinately around the car to the driver's side and opened the door.

"Lets get this over with quickly…"

He raised his eyebrows and when she caught his - deliberately exaggerated - hurt expression, she added hastily: "… before the snow gets here."

His ungloved hand reached for door-handle, the cold metal burning his palm, as he gripped it. He opened the door and cast a last glance up to the sky. It started to snow.

"Jane. For crying out loud, get a move on!"

The sun had gone and now the cold finally managed to break through the last layer of his clothing and he felt it settle heavily in his bones.

"Ho ho ho, lets go", he said, sliding into the passenger seat. Unfortunately for him, as with all his senses, his hearing was better than average, so he caught *exactly* what she was muttering under her breath.

The only reason he managed to keep the small smile up, was because his face was frozen. For which he was eternally grateful…


	4. Slippery Slope

_A/N: Sorry for the delay, struggling with a horrible cold :( Thanks so much for your patience and the reviews on chapter 3. Means more than I can ever say. Next chapter will hopefully be up a lot sooner. But before that: Up the snowy mountain we go ;-)_

* * *

He never liked to admit it, but Lisbon was the better driver. Especially in conditions like this. Not that they'd ever been in conditions like this before. At least not together. The car crept slowly up the mountain road, Lisbon coaxing it gently around every sharp turn, nudging it carefully up every steep climb, her eyes fixed on a point beyond the frantic movement of the windscreen wipers and the falling snow, face screwed up in a perpetual frown. Her grip on the steering wheel was tight, but the skin around her knuckles had a healthy normal colour. Her back was in contact with the seat and from time to time she even cast a small glance in his direction. Fierce concentration, he noted. Not panic. Or fear.

Which was good.

Because he was pretty close to both right now.

Which was why, when he felt her questioning gaze on him, he pretended he hadn't and kept staring out of the window.

Not that it was helpful.

At all.

Because from his point of view he as staring into the abyss.

Literally.

Once they'd left the valley behind and began the climb up Barnes Mountain, the road had gotten narrower with every mile. The trees, black giants appearing and disappearing behind a whirl of white and grey, seeming to push it further towards the edge of the ridge, until he thought there were no more than a couple of inches left between gravel and gravity.

To distract himself from thinking about the laws of physics and how they might not work in their favour on this instance, he decided to do what Lisbon had done miles ago and finally shed a few layers of clothing.

Well, one layer in Lisbon's case.

Which, Jane thought, now that he was theoretically "allowed" to look at her more closely again, was rather disappointing. But at least now, in the tight black fleece-jacket he could read her body language more easily than through the thick insulated down jacket she'd been wearing on top of it.

He unfastened his seat-belt and wriggled out of both outdoor- and fleece-jacket with one fluid movement. He was tossing both on the back seat, when he felt Lisbon frown at him.

"What?" he asked, not sure if she was annoyed because he had a) basically committed a traffic violation, b) shed his winter wear far more gracefully and a lot faster than she had or c) because his movements had simply reminded her of his presence in the car.

He suspected it was all of the above.

She turned her attention back on the road, not giving him an answer.

There was an itchy spot on his neck, prickling with the unaccustomed sensation of being fiercely enclosed by fabric. He pushed the high collar of the plain, but suffocatingly tight long-sleeve shirt down and started to absently scratch his itching skin, while simultaneously craning his neck to cast an anxious glance out of the window.

Suddenly the car bucked a little and skidded towards the enemy trees, catching Jane off guard and throwing him towards Lisbon. Reaching for the edge of her seat, trying to steady himself, his hand brushed her arm and shoulder, then, suddenly, where the soft fabric of her fleece-jacket had been, there was nothing but air and he had to make a very undignified, very uncontrolled scrambling movement to get his body back into a normal sitting position and not land even more undignified and uncontrolled in her lap.

Not that he would have.

When he looked up, she had practically flattened herself against the driver's door.

"Sorry", he said, giving her an apologetic smile, even though he felt like rolling his eyes at her or even yelling "Booh". A few months ago he would have. But then, a few months ago she would simply have given him a rough but well-meaning shove that sent him back into his seat. Pulling away from him like that, was not a good sign. Especially not when she needed to concentrate on driving.

So he put his seat-belt back on and forced himself to lean against the window and turn his head away from her, thereby giving her another few inches of space, hoping it would calm her down. He tilted his head a little until he managed to catch her reflection in the window. It wasn't easy to extract the almost translucent image of her face from all the white greyish background movement, but after a couple of moments he found his focus and her features became a little more defined, though they were still ghostly and pale, flickering in and out of existence. She had slowly allowed her body to slide back to the middle of the driver's seat and her eyes were back on the road.

His eyes never left her reflection.

His initial relief at the apparent end of her relationship with Marcus now slowly turned into worry. Yes, she hadn't slept and was probably exhausted, but that would usually make her grumpy and a little aggressive, heightening her need for control.

And for conversation.

The fact that she hadn't said a word and was physically trying to get away from him — knowing he'd spot it, but not being able to restrain herself or trying to disguise it — that had nothing to do with exhaustion. That was something else. Had he been wrong? Maybe it wasn't the end of her relationship with Marcus that he'd seen in her eyes? Maybe he'd misinterpreted what he'd read on her on purpose? Because he couldn't handle it? Or maybe they both had pushed her too far, each in their own way, forcing her into the only option she thought she had: Run. Like the wind. He replayed the words she had muttered earlier under her breath:

_"Brilliant idea. Moving to the North Pole. Only one old man there and he's happily married. No trouble. No sorrow."_

His heart sank. She could leave him. Any time she wanted. Pike or no Pike. Turn her back and never come back. Of course he'd known that, but once she had agreed to work with him again, it had never occurred to him that she actually might consider it one day. Not now, when *he* finally had no more reasons to run. When there was no reason…

"Jane?"

Her voice, a little hoarse from not being used for almost half an hour, startled him.

"Hm?"

She gestured to somewhere in front of them.

"Where to?"

He pointed. "Take that track. That leads up to the ravine, according to the sheriff."

She nodded. Jane decided that now, once the silence was broken, he wasn't willing to let it settle back down between them. He sighed loudly.

"He's boring."

Lisbon frowned. "Who?"

"The sheriff. Boring little man. In a boring little town. Full of boring little people."

"Now that is quite rude. You don't know that."

"Oh, please! The Barnes Motel, the Barnes Diner, Barnes Street, "Make a Barnes-gain at Barnes Hardwares", Barnes Mountain…"

"What's the ravine called?"

"That doesn't have a name… the Barnes wildlife trail, Barney the dog…"

"What dog?"

"The sheriff's… Barnes Barber's, Barnes…"

"Alright, alright… so they are not really creative with names. That doesn't mean they are boring."

"Yes it does. The sheriff said so himself. He thinks it can't be anyone local because the locals don't do weird crimes. They don't have the imagination."

"Is that why he seems so disinterested in the whole thing?"

Jane shrugged. "Probably. Little boring man. Only interested in little boring crimes."

"Hush."

"Oh come on, don't defend him, I can tell that you don't like him."

Lisbon shrugged, although the gesture was hard to see, now that they were on the real bumpy track and the car bucked and bounced over patches of ice and snow and gravel like a nervous horse. Once it got a little less rough, Lisbon continued.

"Alright, I thought he was a little condescending when I went to get the map. Like he thought I was worried about breaking a fingernail or not being able to wear high-heels up the mountain… little helpless city-girl."

"Which you are most definitely not", Jane agreed. "Speaking of that moment when you went to get the map…"

She interrupted him quickly. "What else did he say?"

"Nothing of interest", Jane replied equally quickly. He heard the dangerously high notes in her voice, but was suddenly unable to stop pushing.

"Lisbon… what happened yesterday?"

She fell quiet and he waited, watching her eyes flicker nervously from side to side, watching the muscles in her neck stiffen, like she wanted to make sure she wasn't physically able to turn her head in his direction and look at him. Her knuckles turned white with stress. Then her fingers loosened their grip again a little and she shook her head slowly.

"At the crime-scene? You've seen the photos of the burnt bodies I presume?"

"Yes", he said, not surprised, but a little disappointed that she found the escape route this quickly.

"Tell me. Yesterday. Take your mind back there and tell me. What did you see?"

The car suddenly lurched and Jane was thrown into the seat-belt.

"Sorry." Lisbon said. "What?"

He eyed her with a frown. "The crime-scene", he explained slowly, noticing a slight patch of hectic red on her pale cheeks and neck.

Intrigued he leaned a little forward, but then forced himself to lean back again, when he saw a muscle in her shoulder twitch with nervous tension.

"Tell me about the crime-scene", he said again.

And so, with something that was close to a sigh of relief, she did.

What she had to say didn't take long, but long enough to get to end of the track. Lisbon slowed the car down, then stopped when a yellow police tape became visible. She turned off the engine and leaned back for a moment, closing her eyes.

"Nice driving, by the way", Jane said from somewhere beside her. She felt a small flash of pride in her heart and an equally small flash of a smile on her face.

"Thank you. Not bad for a city-girl, eh?"

"I never doubted your abilities", Jane said. Her smile widened, but she didn't open her eyes.

"Liar", she said.

He made a disapproving sound.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. The mock hurt expression on his face was close to a pout and she couldn't help but laugh. It felt good.

"Don't think I didn't notice how freaked out you were every time you looked out of the window."

"Do you know how close we were to the edge? The view on my side didn't have a truly calming effect", Jane complained. He crossed his arms defensively in front of his chest.

"But I wasn't freaked out. Mildly concerned maybe, but not freaked out."

She snorted and before she realised what she was doing, she leaned over and patted his shoulder lightly, a huge mocking grin spreading over her face while she said sweetly.

"It's ok. You're save now. The scary edge is far away, so do you mind taking your mild concern out of the car, please, so we can get on with it?"

He grinned back at her, then opened the door, grabbed his jackets from the back-seat and jumped out, shouting "Last one to spot the frozen dead guy is buying dinner!"

She shook her head, the nervous fear at his proximity she'd felt in the car now gone and replaced by a feeling of gratitude that he was here with her. For the first time in 48 hours she felt relatively close to normal.

The feeling only lasted as long as it took her to get out of the car.

He'd dumped the jackets on the bonnet and was stretching his arms and back.

Lisbon stared at him.

With the exception of the odd hospital gown and prison clothing she had never seen him in anything other than a suit. She certainly had never seen him in jeans, outdoor-boots and a tight long-sleeved shirt. He grabbed the dark grey FBI-issue fleece-jacket from the bonnet and slid into it, zipping it up and adjusting the high collar. Suddenly realising that she had been looking at him for a full 20 seconds without moving or saying something she turned around quickly.

Maybe he hadn't noticed.

"These have an excellent warmth-to-weight-ratio and fantastic heat retention properties", he remarked casually.

_Ok. Of course he had. Great. _

She busied herself with suiting up, trying not to think about how she wanted to just look at him again and what that might mean. After double-checking that she could still reach her gun fast and easy despite the added layers of clothing, she was about to zip up her own jacket, when a shadow fell over her and she felt the familiar tingle that meant Jane had entered her personal space. Her head shot up and he caught her startled gaze gently with his own calmer one.

She wanted to groan in frustration.

Now that he was standing this close to her, she saw that the wind- and water-proof jacket that went on top of the fleece was just the perfect shade of midnight blue with a hint of teal that made his eyes…

_Stop that thought. Stop it right now._

He patted the jacket with a smug grin.

"And this one has tons of pockets. Which is always good."

She pretended not to care and fumbled with the zipper of her own jacket, cursing inwardly as her already gloved hands didn't get a hold of the small metal zip.

Then she froze.

She could feel the warmth of his touch through the fabric of her gloves, his hands resting on hers for a second, before his fingers started to gently push hers aside. He got a hold on the zipper, one hand now grabbing the hem of the jacket, the other one slowly moving the zipper upwards from her waist to her neck, his eyes never leaving hers. It was the first time he had deliberately touched her in what seemed like months and the intensity of it rendered coherent thought impossible for a moment.

Judging from the way the smug grin suddenly left his face, he seemed similarly affected, though he recovered faster than she did. He let go and dropped his hands to his sides.

"There you go. All tucked in. Nice and warm", he said with a gentle smile, his voice a little hoarse like it always was when his words were this quiet, nothing more than a whisper and only meant for her.

An image flashed in front of her eyes, sending her brain from paralysis directly into short-circuiting.

She rushed past him.

Not looking back.

Not turning around.

But stopping in her tracks only a few seconds later, back going rigid, a gasp escaping her mouth.

Jane sighed. "Well, I guess that means I'm buying dinner then."

When he caught up with her, any plans to make a joke about dinner in general and frozen foods in particular fled his mind.

"That is…" he said, unsure how to accurately end the sentence and opting for the obvious.

"… a frozen dead man."

"Yeah…" Lisbon agreed, voice flat.

The man was just standing there, in the entrance to a steep ravine, arms raised towards the sky, head bent back, body enclosed by at least ten inches of ice. Jane stepped closer, circling the frozen corpse.

"Looks like someone slid his throat. There's a red mark across his neck. But not a lot of blood."

Lisbon stayed were she was, letting her gaze wander around the rest of the area. The ravine was about ten yards wide at the entrance, flanked by huge fir trees, their branches aching under a thick blanket of snow. There was only a small area of gravel from where the track ended and the ravine began that wasn't covered in trees and bushes and rocks and snow. The yellow police tape went along its edges, like a barrier that kept the hostile mountain forest at bay. Now that the hum of the car-engine was gone, Lisbon could hear the sharp rustling sound of the police tape being battered by the winter wind, the forest whispering and creaking and gurgling with unfamiliar sounds. It was a strangely dark place, despite the whiteness of the snow. Lisbon shivered a little. Scanning the rows of trees around her, she suddenly realised something was missing.

She turned to find Jane standing directly in front of the dead man, his bare hands touching the ice around the man's chest.

"Jane. Gloves.", she barked at him, not only afraid he was destroying potential evidence but also contracting frostbite in the process.

Jane didn't answer, instead moving his face even closer. She could see how his breath rolled against the ice like waves on a shore. She also noticed how the waves became more frequent and forceful.

"Uh… Lisbon…"

"What?"

"Wrong frozen dead man."


	5. Swept Off Her Feet

_A/N: Thank you so much for the favs, follows & reviews. Makes being ill a little less horrible. As promised here is the next one. Which is about frozen dead men. And Jane being, well… Jane. And Lisbon being swept off her feet. Sort of. Hope you like it!_

* * *

Lisbon watched as Jane shoved a probing finger into the frozen dead man's chest, finding herself ridiculously relieved when the action only resulted in a hollow tapping sound. Somehow she had expected the human ice sculpture to tip over and fall to the ground, shattering into a million pieces.

She knew it was absurd.

She also knew the odds of anything absurd happening were increased by at least twenty percent when you had to factor the "Jane co-efficient" in.

Both mathematics and experience supported this theory.

So, just to be on the safe side, she stepped closer and caught his wrist before he could prod and poke the frozen corpse again. Once Jane started to lower his arm, she let go of him. When the arm prepared for another upward movement, she shot him a stern look. The arm dropped to his side, the fabric of his jacket producing a muffled deflating noise of defeat.

"Wrong frozen dead man has a badge on his chest", Jane remarked in a clearly bored tone, signalling his disappointment at being prevented from adding a little more drama to his discovery.

"So that explains where the deputy is", Lisbon said, turning around and scanning the area, trying to see beyond the trees and the snow and the yellow police tape, wondering if the person responsible for this was still out there. She felt the urge to reach for her gun, but tried to ignore it for now.

"Hm", Jane said, tilting his head a little and leaning forward, obviously trying to see through the reflections of the ice and catch a better glimpse of the man's face. Lisbon turned her back on Jane, keeping her eyes on the area around them, letting her right hand edge closer to her gun.

"You think he is still out there?"

"Probably", Jane agreed, circling the corpse again. When Lisbon cast a glance at him, he was craning his neck to check out the watch on the man's wrist, then he moved behind him, looking over the frozen deputy's shoulder into the ravine.

"This is exactly where the first victim was placed", he said.

"Why? And what happened to the first victim?", Lisbon asked, turning her attention back to the edge of the forest. For a second she thought she'd seen something move. But now there was only white and black and grey. Maybe the lack of sleep was finally catching up with her. Jane appeared next to her with a shrug.

"Well, to answer your first question: I don't know. But…"

He took two strides to the side, then crouched down and beckoned for Lisbon to follow him. She did so reluctantly, casting one sweeping glance in every direction before kneeling down next to him. He pointed to a chunk of ice, almost invisible on the snow-covered ground.

"Turn it around", Jane said. When Lisbon looked at him in annoyed confusion he raised his hands and wriggled his fingers.

"No glove. No shove."

Rolling her eyes at him, she carefully turned the block of ice over. It was heavy, about ten inches thick and more than twice as long. One end of it was smooth and round, but the other end was a mess, spiky and splintered, clearly indicating that this had once been a piece of a larger structure. Her eyes wandered along its surface and she frowned. Now it was gone, but there had been something enclosed in the ice before. Something round and…

She shuddered as her eyes caught hold of what were evidently the outlines of a clenched fist.

"… our first victim seems to be in pieces", Jane said.

Lisbon's stomach lurched. She got up with an exasperated sigh.

"This is crazy. Insane. Why would anyone do that?"

When Jane got up, she felt his arm brush hers, but didn't move away. Being in one combined personal space seemed like a good idea at this point. If they were in immediate danger, she could protect him. If he tried something stupid, she could kick him.

"Well, your guess is as good as mine", Jane said with a shrug that went from his shoulders into his eyes and then suddenly transformed itself into a huge grin.

"Although… mine's probably better."

She elbowed him in the ribs and added "punching him if he was arrogant and smug" to her list. He winked at her, rocking back and forth on his heels like he always did when he couldn't wait to tell her something. It was as infuriating as it was endearing.

"So? What is your guess then?"

He rubbed his hands together in excitement.

"We know that these murders are ritualistic, involving the four elements. This ritual — involving the element of water — wasn't complete. The killer came back to finish it, but since the deputy was here, he couldn't go through with it. Maybe the deputy saw him or the timing of the ritual was so important that he couldn't wait any longer, either way: They meet. A struggle ensues, during which frozen dead man number one is probably knocked over. Killer kills the deputy, but is now faced with a problem, his intended offering to whomever or whatever — we'll work that out later — isn't pure anymore. It's damaged. Spoilt."

"… so he needs a replacement."

"Precisely" Jane said, bringing his hands to his mouth and blowing a warm breath into his palms.

Lisbon frowned at him.

"It's a nice theory, but it has one vital flaw…."

Jane huffed indignantly, rubbing his hands together.

Her frown deepened. Because right now, all she wanted to do was take his hands into hers to keep them warm.

"Timing, Jane. Assuming your are correct: He would have to kill the man, arrange his body in a place he can fill with water, wait for that to freeze and then carve him out of a block of ice again. And the deputy has only been here since yesterday afternoon, right?"

Jane frowned, the movement of his hands slowing down as his thoughts sped up. Lisbon crossed her arms in front of her chest.

_Lets see how you get out of this one_, she thought, knowing the moment she had, he'd a) heard it and b) accepted the challenge.

Neither was a good thing.

"Jane…", she warned, as he slowly retreated, eyes bright and shining with energy, the grin on his face growing wider. He moved to stand in front of the frozen deputy, craning his neck, face close to the ice, eyes constantly moving, searching for something within it.

And just as Lisbon began to relax a little, Jane leaned in closer, stuck out his tongue and practically licked across the frozen dead man's face.

"JANE! For heaven's sake!"

He felt her yanking him away from the frozen body and took two steps back, afraid that if she continued her indignant onslaught on him they might both fall. She glowered at him, cheeks flushed, hands now resting on her hips.

He shot her an innocent look.  
She responded with something that sounded suspiciously like a growl.

"What?"

"This isn't a popsicle, this is a murder victim, Jane! You can't just…"

She gestured helplessly between him and the human ice sculpture.

"… lick him."

Jane grinned.

"Ah, come one, Lisbon. Don't you want to know what he tastes like?"

Lisbon made a noise. "God, you are disgusting, really."

"No, I am not. Just proving a theory", Jane replied calmly and pointed at the dead deputy.

"He is disgusting, though. Very salty taste. Which is what I've expected."

She blinked at him, her anger slowly receding and being replaced by curiosity. Not doubt. Not disgust. Not disappointment. But curiosity at what he was about to tell her. He loved seeing that particular transition of emotion on her face, because it meant that she still believed in him. He needed to see that sometimes.

"Salt?"

"Yes, Lisbon. Salt. Which, contrary to popular belief, can not only be used to melt ice, but actually help *make* it. Right amount of salt and you can speed up the freezing process of water. So there you have it: One fast freezing deputy to make my guess the better one."

"I haven't actually made a guess", Lisbon reminded him, then took a deep breath and made a decision.

"Right. Lets get back to the car. We need to call backup. And where are the forensics people? They should be here by now, too."

He stayed close to her on the short way back to the car, sometimes shortening and adjusting his stride on purpose so his arm would brush hers. He knew he'd have to be careful not to overdo it, but until now she hadn't said or done anything to banish him again. He relished every second of it.

He watched her crawl into the car and wrench the radio out of the glove compartment along with the map the sheriff had given her. Without looking back to see if he was still standing beside the door, she tossed the map towards him. Jane caught it easily. It was neatly folded, a clear indication that Lisbon hadn't looked at it yet. She was switching on the radio now, trying to make contact with the sheriff's office in Barnes Hollow.

Jane watched her carefully, finally admitting that even though he was glad she was letting him in again, it hadn't escaped his notice how unpredictably quickly she was shifting from shying away from him to letting him get close to forgetting he was actually there. She was switching emotional states faster than tv-channels on a lonely Friday night. Right now though, she was concentrating on the task at hand. He was proud of her. And impressed. And worried. All at once. He could still see exhaustion, sadness and nervousness hovering around her, but they were faint, cast out by fierce determination and focus and courage.

And sudden bewilderment. He blinked and readjusted his focus on her.

"What?"

"The radio. It doesn't work. I tried it. This morning. Everything was fine." She flipped it and pulled the casing open, removing the batteries, then putting them back in. Heading for the boot of the car, she said.

"Check the map for the nearest cabin or ranger station. Anything with a potential land-line or radio-equipment."

Jane stepped around the car, using his left arm to brush away the thin layer of snow that had already settled on the hood. Then he unfolded the map and placed it on the cool metal surface.

He looked at the map.

Looked closer.

Then he frowned.

Picked up the map.

Examined it more closely.

Knowing the answer, but needing to ask the question anyway, he called.

"Lisbon? Did you unfold this?"

Lisbon, from somewhere behind the car and the snow and the anger of not getting the radio to work replied with a sound that in translation was a solid "no".

Then after a few seconds, her head appeared next to him.

"Why?"

"You sure?"

"Yes, Jane, I am sure. Why?"

"I think we may have a problem…"

The map he held up was not crumpled, not torn or incomplete. It was as neatly as he had expected it to be, after watching the sheriff work his magic on the paper yesterday. But aside from the regular fold lines there was a second set in the paper. Forming an intricate symbol. Meeting at a single spot.

The ravine.

"So. No radio. No forensics. No backup. That kind of problem?", Lisbon asked. He nodded.

"That kind of problem."

She slammed down the radio on the hood of the car, making him flinch.

"Damn it!"

"Language, Lisbon. Language."

"Oh, bite me, Jane!"

He leaned against the car next to her, delighted when, after a moment, he felt her nudge him, a very Lisbon apology. Which was unnecessary. But nice.

"I thought you said the sheriff was boring? That he was harmless? How could you miss this?"

The delight turned to guilt. And anger. At himself. She was right. He should have spotted something. DID in fact spot something. But had been too distracted at the time to notice. Or care. And it had put them both in danger. But what was he supposed to tell her? That he had been too busy trying to figure out if she was about to break his heart by moving to New York with Pike? That waiting for a text or a call from her was more important than paying attention to the case?

"I didn't say he was harmless. I said he was boring. Which I still believe him to be. Which means someone else has come up with this. He is just following instructions."

"Following instructions on how to freeze people in order to offer them to some new-age-pagan god isn't being boring, that is being insane, Jane. And beside the point right now. He did this. He killed these men."

"Insane people can be boring, too", Jane said, crossing his arms defensively in front of his chest.

He took in a deep breath, letting the winter air work its magic, inhaling deeply, until he could feel the cold prickling in his veins, calming him down. Then he let the air back out in a long, deep sigh, identifying with both reluctance and slight annoyance a second — though much less prominent reason — why he hadn't taken a closer look at the man. He lowered his head.

Lisbon frowned at him, waiting for him to do or say something. It always made her nervous when he fell silent like that. Finally he let out another sigh and said:

"What is it with sheriffs in rural areas anyway? Is clinical insanity, killer potential or being a sociopath a job requirement?"

"Hey! I was one for two years", she replied offended.

Jane shrugged, head still low. "There's always the exception to the rule."

When it dawned on Lisbon what he had been trying to tell her, she reached up a gloved hand and laid it on his arm. When he finally looked up at her, she said.

"Why, thank you."

He gave her a sad smile.

"You are welcome."

They fell silent again, standing next to each other beside the car. The snow was still falling all around them. After a few minutes it was Lisbon who spoke first.

"So what now?"

The fact that Jane moved his body ever so slightly away from hers made her look up at him. His face was screwed up in more than mild discomfort.

"What? Do I even dare to ask?", she said.

"Uh… well… did you… check…"

She flinched, suddenly knowing where this sentence would go. Pushing herself off the car and throwing her body towards the driver's door she almost fell over, when she lost her footing on the icy ground. Grabbing the mirror, she hurled herself on, grabbing the door-handle and wrenching the door open, falling into the driver's seat, stuffing the key into the ignition, turning it and….

Nothing.

She tried again.

Nothing.

"Come on!"

Nothing.

When she looked up, Jane was still standing where he had been, leaning against the car, head low. He'd known the car wouldn't start.

And so had she.

She closed her eyes. Then, when she was sure her hands and feet were steady, she got out of the car again and returned to his side.

"Jane?"

"Hm?"

"Car doesn't work."

"Hm."

"Radio doesn't work."

"Hm."

"Backup isn't coming."

"Hm."

"Snow storm is, though."

"Hm."

"This is pretty bad."

"You forgot to mention the boringly insane killer sheriff", Jane mumbled, letting his head fall against his chest.

She gave him a shove and heard him chuckle under his breath. A second later she felt one of her own escaping her lips. He raised his head and shook it.

"Nah. We've had worse. Come on. This is us. Who needs backup. Lets go figure this out. We're good at that, you know."

"Figure it out how?", she asked. Jane turned and fishing the map out of his pocket replied.

"The ravine is important. The frozen deputy was placed there on purpose. Facing it. And on this as on any other map…"

Jane unfolded it again, placed it in front of Lisbon and pointed to a spot in the middle of the ravine where the lines in the paper met.

"X marks the spot."

Lisbon frowned, but knew he was right. Besides, if they stayed immobile, they were easy targets. And she might fall asleep. Moving was better. She pushed herself off the car again.

"Alright. But we don't go far. We'll just take a look. Then head back. And you will stay with me at all times. And even though I am not your boss anymore, in this case: What I say goes, Jane. Is that clear?"

He nodded.

"You. Gun. Therefore. In Charge. Armed and dangerous. Got it."

Her look told him, she didn't believe him, but she started moving anyway. They salvaged a few things from the car that Lisbon stuffed into a backpack. A torch, water, some food, a first aid kit and a hunting knife, their phones, all the ammunition she had and a silver shock blanket. Then they started walking. They passed the frozen deputy and moved into the ravine, leaving the gravel and stepping into snow, their feet making crunching sounds with every step, that echoed from the stone walls on either side of them. Jane was walking behind her, but a after a while he suddenly caught up with her, put his mouth close to her ear and whispered in a deep voice.

"You shall not pass…"

Startled, Lisbon almost drew her gun at him.

"Damn it, Jane…"

He laughed, then overtook her, she thought for the sole reason of being able to brush "accidentally" past her in the narrow passage. He thought she hadn't noticed that he was gradually drifting closer to her since they'd left Barnes Hollow. But she had. And, with slight astonishment, she realised that she'd missed it. Missed him. The feeling made her want to laugh. Or cry. Or both.

Suddenly and without warning Jane dropped down to the ground in front of her. Before she could register that his move had been deliberate, she'd reached a hand out to grab him, but missed, fingers grasping at nothing but cold air. Jane grinned up at her, obviously touched by her concern. She glowered at him. He pushed his body into the snow, laying flat on his stomach.

"I swear, if you went down there to make a snow angel, I will punch you."

But finally her eyes registered what his had discovered earlier. A foot-print in the snow. Jane was lying in front of it, gently blowing on the snow. She saw tiny pieces of it moving.

"That track is fresh. Very fresh."

She frowned at him. "Seriously? You are going all Trapper John on me now?"

"No", Jane made a distracted sound from somewhere in the snow. "I'm not treating frostbite down here."

"What?"

"Never mind… Lisbon, this track is fresh."

He pushed himself up again, brushing snow from his jacket and jeans.

"When snow is disturbed, say by someone walking through it, pieces are dislodged and thrown on top of the snow around it. After a while the pieces that have been thrown on top of the other snow will bond, which is called sintering…"

He knelt down, pointing to the area around the footprint. "I was able to blow these bits of snow away, which means the snow hasn't sintered yet, which means…"

"The track is fresh", Lisbon finished, not able to hide at least a little admiration in her voice. Jane noticed and grinned proudly up at her.

"Didn't wear that boy scout uniform for nothing as a kid, mind you."

"You were a boy scout?" Lisbon asked, clearly stunned. Jane shook his head with a laugh.

Lisbon couldn't tell if it was amused, happy or sad. Though if he tried to hide the real emotion from her, it was usually the latter.

"No, but a stage persona is more believable if you actually do know what your stage persona is supposed to know."

He staggered back to his feet. Lisbon took a closer look at the track itself. The footprint was clearly visible, made by a heavy boot. The same kind the deputy was wearing.

Killing a member of your own team.  
_How could you kill a member of your own team?_  
It made Lisbon angry. Very angry.

"Lets go catch the bastard, then", she said, moving deeper into the ravine.

They followed the track, which was clearly visible in the snow. Jane moving slightly ahead of her, stopping every time they passed bushes and small trees, checking of signs of broken branches. After few minutes of silence, he suddenly said to her.

"This is actually kind of nice."

"What?"

"This. No Abbott. No Fischer. Or.. other… new people. No crowds. Just you and me."

"And a killer", Lisbon reminded him.

"Yeah", Jane admitted. "There is that. But still. Aside from that. It's nice. Like on that stakeout. In the park. On the bench."

He smiled at her. She suddenly looked away, avoiding his gaze, that quick flash of hot nervous energy showing on her neck and cheeks. He'd touched a nerve.

Probably by mentioning other new people.  
It had probably, he now reflected, not been a good idea.

A gust of cold wind swept down from the mountain, pushing snow and small ice crystals towards them. Lisbon turned her face away from the biting frost and cursed.

"I hate this cold, I'm freezing."

"Oh come one, Lisbon. Think warm cosy romantic snuggly thoughts."

The look she shot him was bad, all hot anger and repressed rage. He stretched out a hand, wanting to reassure her, that he'd only meant to tease, but she drew herself away, out of his reach. This was his fault. He knew he shouldn't have mentioned Pike before. But now it was too late. He could see her focus slipping, trying to force whatever memory he had accidentally stirred, out of her mind.

Jane estimated that their quarry had about a 15 minute head start on them by now. And even though this wasn't an ideal time to deal with the mammoth in the gorge, it was better now than later. She needed to refocus. Get this out of her system. Now.

So he smiled at her sweetly and said more than a little condescendingly.

"Now don't work yourself up into too much of a temper, Lisbon. Keep a cool head. Balance. It's all about balance."

He reached out for her again. She moved to the side, her shoulder banging against the side of the rock.

"This isn't funny, Jane", she hissed at him.

"'I'm just saying. Be comfortable, Lisbon. Being uncomfortable and mentally stressed can actually make you colder."

"Then stop making me uncomfortable. Back off and shut up, Jane."

"I don't think you want me to stop talking. Because if I do, you'll have nothing to distract you from thinking about whatever it is that happened yesterday."

"Nothing happened yesterday."

"Lisbon, stop pretending. I know something did. And you know I know that it did. Why won't you tell me?"

Suddenly she stopped, whirling around to face him.

"Really? Now? You really want me to tell you now?"

"Timing isn't perfect", he admitted, trying to catch her eyes. "I'd rather do this over a nice cup of tea and a cuddle, but you clearly need to talk about it now or it'll lead to something worse than the tension headache you are blocking out… among other things."

_That bastard. That arrogant, condescending…_

"I'm upset, because I let you talk me into this crazy killer hunt! I'm upset because we should have stayed at the car! Hell, we should never have come up here alone in the first place!"

She was yelling at him now, everything suddenly hurting and hot and red and bright and why, why on earth, did he insist on making it worse with every word, every move. Why wouldn't he just back off?

"Yeah, taking the killer along on the ride would have made things a lot easier", he said with a snort.

Lisbon clenched her fists.

"Being up here with Cho and Pike or Fischer and Abbott would have made things a lot easier. You spotting that there *is* a killer here, instead of being a pain in the neck as usual would have made things a lot easier!"

"Why didn't you bring Pike? You two are usually inseparable", he shot back, eyes now flashing with anger, taking a step towards her.

"Why didn't you notice? You usually notice everything", she challenged.

His shoulders suddenly slumped down and he closed his eyes. The anger was screaming in her ears, loud and high-pitched. So loud she nearly missed what he said.

"You're right. I usually do. I did. I noticed that there was something Cho wasn't telling me. It may have… distracted me a little."

Suddenly the noise in her mind was gone, like a mute-button had been pressed. She looked at him. At the clear distress and fear he let her read in his face. He'd been scared.

"So", he said quietly, taking another step closer. "Why didn't you bring Pike? What happened? Why wouldn't you tell me what happened?"

She looked at him, exhausted and tired and suddenly unsure why this was such a big deal anyway. Why was this so hard? It should be easy. Telling him. Was she afraid he'd gloat? Or do what exactly? Make her cry her heart out and make her lose control? Make her feel humiliated and like a stupid little girl? Or sneer at her because she was so damaged she couldn't even keep up an easy relationship like this for more than a couple or months? Or what? This was stupid. This was all her. Not Jane.

She closed her eyes. Took a deep breath.

"Because…" Lisbon felt her voice starting to shake, wanting, needing to get back in control. She took a step back, needing to bring a little distance between herself and him. Jane stared at her, eyes wide, face suddenly growing very pale.

"Lisbon…"

"He's a got a job in New York and he wants me to come with him and I want…"

He gasped in something that sounded very much like panic.

"Lisbon! Don't!"

The vehemence of his reaction pushed all the air from her lungs. She opened her mouth, but before she could tell him that it was okay, that she wouldn't go, before she could even start to understand her own feelings triggered by seeing the scope of the terror in his eyes, before she could stop her body from moving, she took another shaky step back.

And the world slipped away.


	6. Avalanche

_A/N: I am truly sorry for the evil cliffhanger (I never expected that amount of danger to creep into the story when I started) and hope you will accept this fast update as my sincere apology ;-). On a side note: Even though it isn't finished yet, it is already the longest fic I ever wrote and I can't tell you how grateful I am that you are reading it._

* * *

The wind carried a howl with it. It twisted and turned in the icy current that swept through the gorge, threw itself against the steep rock walls on either side of the passage, rising, scrambling upwards, trying to escape. When it couldn't find a way out, it crashed back into the slowly rising storm, drowning in the wind's own whispers of frost and dread and despair. But before it faded completely, it broke through the surface of the sea of white winter noise one last time.

And became recognisable as a man's desperate scream of loss.

Then the wind caught a very different sound and carried it off into the darkening day.

Laughter.

_One down._  
_One to go._

Judging from the apparent distress the remaining one was in and the way the wind now whipped up snow and ice and moulded it into an impenetrable, freezing wall of mist, he had a real chance of making this plan work. He only needed the right incentive, the right bait to get his quarry moving in the right direction. And then…

Blondie would never know what hit him. Literally.

And then all would be well again.  
He'd fixed it. All on his own. He felt proud.

The man held up his hand, letting the wind play over his skin, stretching out his fingers to caress it. Then he set the hand carefully down on the rock beside him, the warmth of his skin burning into the snow, turning it into water under the palm of his hand.

Air. Earth. Fire. Water.

It still amazed him how he could have lived so many years not understanding that it all came down to this. That it was this simple. That he could do anything, be anything, have anything, as long as he understood this. After his journey was complete. He knew he had to be careful now. He was almost there. The ritual almost complete. And once he'd gotten rid of the FBI-guy, he would finish it. And finally be the man he always wanted to be. A clever man. A strong man. A man of flame and ice and storm and stone. A man of the elements. And once he was that, he didn't need to rely on anyone anymore, not even on the one who had started him on this journey.

He longed for night to fall. He longed to complete his transformation.

He raised his head, closing his eyes, letting the wind stroke his face one more time in a wild caress, understanding that this was a reward for the work he'd already done and accepting it with gratitude.

Flattening himself against the rock, he listened, knowing that the wind would bring to him what he needed. For a moment there was nothing. Then scrambling noises, choking sounds, frantic and wild and out of control. Then a thud and a crunch, like someone falling to his knees on the snowy ground. Then another howl, this time louder, a mixture of despair and pain and rage and guilt.

"I know you are out there you son of a bitch! You'll pay for this! I'll kill you! You hear me? I'll kill you!"

The man frowned.

Her knew this Jane-consultant-guy was air. Pure air. Highly intelligent. Full of knowledge. Someone with excellent mental powers, probably even psychic. A man full of tricks and trickery. Someone who kept his own self hidden, but unlocked everyone else's secrets. Someone you couldn't catch, just as you couldn't grasp a summer's breeze. Someone you couldn't stop from getting inside your head, just as you couldn't stop air from getting into your lungs. Air. He was sure. Jane was air.

So why was there so much fire in his screams and in his words? The man thought about it for a while. Then he understood. And smiled. The fire came not from Jane himself, but from the dead woman. The woman was fire and she was in Jane's soul. She had been part of him.

He laughed.

This was going to be much easier than he thought, because it meant that a part of the man he needed to kill was already dead. The rest of him was out for revenge. All he needed as bait was offering him the prospect of getting it.

He tilted his head into the caress of the wind once more, asking it, coaxing it, pleading with it to do his bidding, to grant him another favour. Then he took up a piece of rock and pressed a kiss onto the cold stone. The rough surface cut his upper lip and he closed his eyes, savouring the pain. Then he aimed. The stone was lifted into the air, then bounced against the rock with a hollow crashing sound that echoed across the gorge to where his quarry was.

Without waiting for Jane to follow the sound, he started moving, nothing more than a grey shadow against black rock. He knew Jane would find his way, had made sure of it earlier, leaving a false but clearly visible trail of footprints and broken branches that led deeper into the gorge. Since he assumed they had studied the map earlier, he knew they would probably think he was trying to escape along a route that led out of the ravine and eventually back to the road.

When he reached his destination, he pressed his body to the ground, waiting for his heartbeat to slow, before sliding carefully closer to the edge of the ridge. He had chosen the spot where the passage between the stone walls was only wide enough for a man to slip through sideways. The effort this manoeuvre would take plus the fact that there was also a sharp bend to navigate at the same time, meant no one could see the section of the path ahead where a rock slide had sealed off the passage completely.

This was no longer an escape route. It was a dead-end.

A fitting description in this case, he thought.

Suddenly the wind whispered a warning of crunching sounds into his ear.

He tossed down another stone, this time a smaller one, aiming not at the rock, but the snow-covered ground below. It hit with a dull thud.

The sound of Jane's footsteps stopped.

Then returned.

Faster.

Closer.

And closer.

Then stopped.

Fabric. Scratching against stone. Tearing. Ripping.

Snow and mist, rising up in a vortex of white made it difficult to see, but it would still be enough. He knew the wind would make sure of that, leaving just enough visibility for him to calculate his move correctly, while at the same time keeping Jane from spotting him.

The wind changed its direction with a growl, blowing snow down into the ravine, a waterfall of white cascading down the black stones, rushing into the pool of rock below.

The man blinked.

A gloved hand reached round the bend.

Then an arm followed.

Then a shoulder.

The the hood of a midnight blue winter jacket.

He waited until Jane had squeezed his torso through the opening, listening to his heavy and laboured breathing. When he was sure Jane was close enough, he sprang to his feet and brought his foot down hard.

"Burry thine enemy in earth and air and water", he howled into the rising wind.

He watched Jane's head turn sharply in alarm, an arm reaching up in fear, a shoulder twitching, Jane trying desperately to scramble back through the opening. But before he could, the avalanche came crashing down on him and then, when the snow finally settled a little and he could see the bottom of the pit again, the blue jacket was gone, buried deeply under snow and ice and stone.

Just to be sure, he waited a moment, watching the white and black surface below for signs of movement.

There were none.

The winter wind whipped around him, applauding him, cheering, tearing at him in praise. He'd done it. And no one would ever think this was anything other than a tragic accident. Two city-cops totally out of their element, getting lost up on the mountain, one being killed by falling into a poacher's trap, the other the victim of an avalanche. Tragic. If only they had taken him up on his offer to come along. He started his descend down into the gorge, which was easy now, the avalanche he had caused, forming a steep, but manageable path downwards. He didn't walk, but slid down on his back, slowly and carefully, following the rocks and the snow, knowing that neither would hurt him.

"I've told the female agent. I asked her if she wanted me to come along. She said no. I should have insisted. I will never forgive myself." He'd never been a good liar, but now when he tried the words on his tongue he found they rolled easily into the cold. It felt intoxicating.

"It's what I always say. City folk shouldn't come up here. Too dangerous."

When he was at the bottom, he twisted his body and rolled on his stomach. Then he got up, making sure his feet were pointing away from the entrance to the pit. He wasn't really sure all of this was necessary, given the amount of snow that was still to fall from the sky and cover his tracks. But he liked to be careful. And he liked to be clever.

So he moved backwards now.

"When they didn't respond, when they didn't come back, I was worried. I went up there. Found the car. Found my poor partner, murdered by this madman. Who does such things, I ask you? I found tracks. Found the woman. No sign of the man. Went further in to investigate. In the storm and with the distress of losing his partner he must have lost his bearings. Went into the wrong direction. It happens. I've seen it a hundred times before. Probably thought the passage would widen further on."

He stumbled over a rock, but found his balance again just in time.

He waited.

Took a deep breath. Scanned the surface for movement again. There was nothing.

_Good._

He took another step back, then crouched down, hands reaching into the rubble and snow, grabbing it, hurling it away in every direction.

His breathing started to get heavy. When he'd made enough of a mess that could be interpreted as a frantic, but unsuccessful rescue attempt, he got up again.

"I tried to get him out of there, Agent Cho, but I couldn't. I tried. But I was too late."

Another careful couple of steps backwards, until he felt his back making contact with the cold rock.

He grinned, now sliding his back along the edge, rubbing it against the rock, his left hand stroking the stone lovingly, searching for the opening between the rock walls.

"Tragic. So tragic", he sighed. Then his hand slid into the air and he thrust his body backwards into the opening, squeezing through to the other side, eyes closed, enjoying the pleasure he felt when his body pressed against the stone. Then he was through. He grinned.

"I keep telling them city folk. Don't come up here, if you don't know what you are doing."

Before he could turn around, something colder and harder than stone was pressed against the back of his head. The grin on his face faded.

Then a female voice said sweetly: "Oh, but we know *exactly* what we are doing."

* * *

_A/N: I know this one is bit short, but it wanted to end here (probably because sassy Lisbon having the last word is always good ;-) and I am too tired to argue with it right now. Still to come: alternative uses for shoelaces, a walk through winter wonderland, random facts about snow and a cuddle on the edge of the abyss. Sort of._


	7. Elements Of Surprise

_A/N: Wow, thank you again for all your kind comments. And thank you for coming along on this journey that was only ever supposed to be a short walk in the snow and somehow became a lot more._

* * *

Three figures stood in the whirl of white noise and frost and ice.

A woman holding a gun, her face hidden beneath the hood of a brown down jacket.

A man in a dark blue uniform and a black beanie hat, his hands cuffed behind his back.

And a second man in a dark grey fleece-jacket, his blonde hair speckled with snow. A huge smile was spread across his face and he was rocking back and forth on his heels with delight, hands clasped behind his back, mirroring and at the same time mocking the posture of the first man.

For a moment no one spoke. Then the man in the grey fleece-jacket let his arms swing forward, raised both his hands and gave the man in the blue uniform a cheery wave.

"Surprise."

The other man gasped, his eyes wide and wild, flickering from the woman to the waving man and back again. A single word escaped his mouth before he could stop it.

"Impossible."

Lisbon had disarmed and handcuffed him within less than a minute, the man apparently too stunned to put up any kind of resistance. Now her eyes were fixed on him and her gun was aimed at his chest, while she carefully slid his gun and knife into her backpack. Jane was starting to move somewhere next to her, but she didn't need to look at him to know what she would see.

She could practically feel his brain shifting into next gear, knew his eyes were flashing with excited energy, knew the corners of his mouth were twitching, holding back the words she could almost hear tumbling from his mind to his tongue. She knew all it would take to set them free was one more word. And maybe an additional punctuation mark.

"How…"

That one.

"…?"

And that one.

_Showtime._

"Magic!", Jane whispered with a gasp and a twirl of his right hand. When he saw the sheriff's eyes widen in something close to fear, he shook his head with a chuckle.

_I could go all Gandalf on him and he'd buy it,_ he thought, knowing that he should probably stop feeding the man's delusions, but the temptation to continue, to keep playing, to keep messing, was agonizingly strong.

At least until Lisbon killed it by clearing her throat.

_Spoilsport._

"Might come as a surprise to you", Jane said slowly, stuffing his freezing hands into the pockets of the jacket. "But there is not such thing as magic."

The sheriff didn't seem convinced, instead fixed his gaze on Lisbon, watching her chest rise and fall, her breath steaming in the cold winter air. Alive. Clearly alive. He looked at Jane accusingly.

"She fell to her death. I heard. She fell. You screamed."

Jane shuddered, trying to ignore the memory of Lisbon suddenly falling once the ground gave way, of her slipping, scrambling, screaming, her terrified eyes never leaving his own. Worse than the memory though, was the thought of her eyes locked in an eternity of terror, everything that was her, gone from them forever. The image of her lying in a hole six feet deep with a broken neck or being impaled on one of the wooden stakes sticking out from the frozen ground. The thought of what would have happened, if he hadn't caught her wrist in time. His chest tightened and he tried to breathe through the sudden pressure and the equally sudden lack of oxygen in his lungs, forcing himself to focus on remembering what had *actually* happened instead of imagining what could have.

His breathing returned to normal.  
His heartbeat didn't.

To buy a little time, he gave a shrug, at the end of which he pushed his hands deeper into his pockets.

"I caught her before she could fall", he then simply said.

"But… your scream… you… it sounded like…"

Jane grinned. "Pretty convincing, huh?"

Lisbon flinched. Too convincing. She remembered Jane throwing his head back and giving that howl, that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside his soul, a sound that carried so much pain and sorrow that when it ended, she found her right hand was firmly clasped around his left.

Only she couldn't remember putting it there.

They had stayed like that for a moment, then he had winked at her and squeezed her hand reassuringly. And she had blushed slightly and let go of him.

Before her mind could go back to a point just a few minutes before the scream and replay another memory that would make her blush right here in the present, she forced it to concentrate on the suspect in front of her.

"It wasn't real?", the man asked.

"No", Jane said. Lisbon noticed he was avoiding her gaze, instead fixing his eyes on the sheriff, just like she had.

"That wolf hole was a pretty nasty trap", Jane remarked after a moment. "Did you built it yourself? Or was it one of the weekend hunter-slash-warriors you hate so much?

"Idiots", the sheriff growled. "Idiots built it. Probably while drunk. For a laugh. Felt manly. Then went back home. Doe fell into it, broke its leg. Died a miserable slow death. Not right. Just not right."

"Yeah", Jane agreed. "Putting a stake through a person is fine, but cruelty to animals… that is just wrong. I see you point."

Bringing his hands out of his pockets again and rubbing them together, he continued.

"This is ultimately all about seeing things, isn't it? You wanted us to see your footprints, hoping to make us chase you without paying attention to anything else but your clear tracks in the snow."

With the other weapons now safely stored in the backpack, Lisbon lowered her gun and stepped towards the man, gripping his arm tight.

"Too bad for you", she said with a nod towards Jane. "that he usually pays attention to *everything*. At least when he's not to busy gloating. Or being a pain in the neck."

"Thanks.… I guess."

Jane stepped closer to the man, until he felt Lisbon tense. He stopped. Addressed him from a still save distance.

"You concealed it well. The trap. But the snow on top was too smooth compared to the surrounding area, plus the footprint right in the middle - nice touch - wasn't as deep as the rest. Because you couldn't put your whole weight on it or you would have fallen into the hole yourself. But hey, stupid city folk wouldn't notice details like that, right?"

Jane pulled a broken twig out of his jacket pocket and turned it over in his hand.

"What you wanted us to notice, were the broken twigs and branches along the way. We had to assume you were in too much of a hurry to care when you left such obvious clues for us to follow. But…"

Jane held the broken twig up.

"… if you brush past vegetation it bends in the direction of travel. Doesn't always break, sometimes just snaps back or in winter snow simply gets brushed off it. But it always indicates direction. These were pointing down. No direction of travel. And the force with which they were broken was too much: Hurry or no hurry — you'd have to be a mammoth or an orc to do that much damage in passing."

The sheriff gave an angry huff.

"You can read tracks. I didn't expect that."

Jane's grin widened.

"Oh, I can read a lot of things, actually. And…"

He pointed at Lisbon.

"… so can the helpless girly city-cop."

The man blinked.

Lisbon smiled at him. "I know how to read tracks. And I know a false trail when I see one. Your footprints were too erratic and the balance was all wrong. You were actually walking backwards out of the dead-end to lure Jane into it, so you could launch the avalanche and kill him."

Lisbon's grip on the man's arm tightened.

"And I did", the sheriff whispered, staring at Jane, remembering how he'd seen him, actually *seen* him look up at him, moving his arm, moving his head, his shoulder. Maybe it was even more true than he'd thought. Maybe this man was AIR. Able to vanish and reappear. Maybe…

"Ah. Well. No."

Jane laughed, then wrapped his arms around himself, when a sharp gust of wind blew more frost and ice around them.

"Sadly made me lose my jacket though. God, it's freezing. Lisbon, can we head back to the car now?"

Lisbon shoved the sheriff into motion, Jane walking in front of them, arms still wrapped around him.

"We knew there was no way we would find you if you didn't want us to. You know the area too well. So we had to convince you that you had killed both me and Jane, so you would come out of hiding and check to make sure."

Jane slowed down, once the path became wide enough for all three of them to walk side by side.

"But… I saw him die… I saw him being buried!"

"Ah, well. You saw my jacket being buried" Jane corrected him.

"But… it…" the man gasped again, stopping in his tracks, digging his heels into the ground like a frightened dog, a shiver of terror running through him. "… it moved".

The word came out as a wheeze.

Jane leaned over to Lisbon and whispered in her ear. "I fear this one is either on the wrong medication or really bat-shit crazy."

He took a deep breath, the word "magic" already back on this tongue, when he caught Lisbon's eyes. And the clear warning in their depths.

He shrugged and rolled his eyes, then waved a hand dismissively. "Well, yeah. I made it move. Easy peasy."

The man tensed beneath Lisbon's grasp. She shot Jane another look. He raised his eyebrows at her innocently. Then he explained in detail.

"I used it as a dummy. A puppet. Filled with snow and old leaves. With strings attached to the sleeves and the hood and threaded through the inside so you couldn't see them. Nothing even remotely supernatural about it."

He looked at Lisbon like a puppy expecting a treat after obeying a complicated command.  
She ignored him.

"The movement you saw, was me pulling the strings to lift the arms and the head. Was convincing enough with the low visibility", Jane said, shooting another glance at Lisbon.

"But I would have like it to be a little more life-like. I wanted the fingers and the wrists to move, too, but Lisbon thought turning it into a real-life-boy was a little too much."

He stuck his bottom lip out in a small pout.  
But Lisbon continued to ignore him.

"The trickiest bit…" Jane continued "was making the strings long enough, but these outdoor-jackets have almost as much cords as they have pockets and…"

He rocked back and forth on his heels, grinning broadly, then lowered his head slowly and let his eyes wander to his boots. He stopped the rocking motion with his toes pointing up. The tongues on his boots were sticking out, enjoying the freedom they had gained by the clear absence of shoelaces.

"There's always shoelaces. And on these kind of boots there's always half a mile of them."

When he looked up again, his eyes caught a fond smile on Lisbon's face, before she was able to turn her head away and hide it. Happy with the result of his efforts, Jane returned his attention to the sheriff again.

The man blinked. Then he understood.

"You tricked me."

"Yup, stringing you along, so to speak", Jane confirmed.

Lisbon, both losing her patience and realising the weather was getting worse, gave the man a rough shove, forcing him to move forward again. He did so without further resistance, stumbling on beside them. After a few steps she heard him mutter.

"But it was supposed to work. I had it all worked out. The wind said it would work. The snow said it would work. The earth said it would work. The elements were with me."

"Well, not all of them. The element of surprise was clearly on our side."

He stared at Jane in confusion, who continued in a conversational tone.

"You know, for someone with your level of insanity, this was a boringly practical approach. Clever, efficient, but not very imaginative in the end. Right, Lisbon?"

She rolled her eyes, deciding to save her thoughts on the matter for later.

Then they all fell silent. Lisbon was wondering why Jane wasn't asking him any questions about why he'd killed those people and what it all meant. She contemplated doing it herself, but then decided against it for now. She needed to concentrate on her prisoner and the walk ahead. The wind screamed at them, tossing and twisting around them, visibility dropping with each step they took. She had to narrow her eyes and sometimes even turn her face away for short periods of time when the cold became too much. She could feel her hand on the man's arm starting to become numb, the wind biting through her gloves. She gritted her teeth. At least her hood and jacket were still keeping the rest of her warm. Jane, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky anymore. Which was probably why he stayed quiet. She felt him move beside her, then speed up his pace, until he was walking directly in front of her, thereby creating a small slipstream that gave her a little protection from the wind.

"We need to be careful now!", Jane had to raise his voice, shouting over his shoulder against the storm. "I think we're close to the trap!"

Lisbon was about to answer, when her prisoner made his move.

He yanked his arm away, twisting and turning, Lisbon's freezing fingers losing their hold on him.

"No!", she yelled, trying hurl herself at the man, but her feet didn't find enough grip on the slippery path and instead of tackling the man full speed, she just slithered into him with an uncontrolled bump. She struggled, saw the man's shoulder twitch and the evasive action she managed despite slipping again on the icy ground, led to the elbow connecting with her shoulder and not with her head.

Nevertheless, it hurt like hell.

With a shout of anger she scrambled up and tried again to get hold of the man, but he was faster, more used to manoeuvring on ice and snow and then he was gone. Lisbon's body crashed into the stone wall with a thud, then she fell backwards, rolling into the snow. All air was pushed from her lungs and she was rendered immobile by pain and disorientation and lack of oxygen. Her eyes swam, though she couldn't tell if it was because of the pain or the storm or both. She saw two dark swishes collide somewhere in front of her, one smudge suddenly going down, the other vanishing behind a wall of white. She cursed, then yelled.

"Jane? Jane!"

The remaining dark ghost rose. She tried to scramble to her feet and draw her gun, but her legs didn't work properly and neither did her arm, the pulsing pain in her shoulder making it numb, the muscles in her arm not responding to the commands of her brain.

_Shit._

The dark ghost crept closer, then finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it turned into the familiar features of Patrick Jane.  
Lisbon gave a sigh of relief.

"Lisbon! You alright?" he asked, reaching out a hand to help her up. Gritting her teeth against the pain in her shoulder she let him pull her up to her feet.

"Fine. You?"

"Yeah."

Steadying herself against his side, taking a deep breath, blocking out the pain, refocusing on the task ahead, she shouted. "Lets go, maybe we can still catch up with him."

Before Jane could protest, acutely aware that she was less than fine and unwilling to risk any further pain or injury, they heard a voice rising above the high pitching noise of the storm.

"I failed, divine teacher! So take me, air! Take me, earth! Take me, snow!"

Then a crashing, ripping, tearing sound.  
Then silence.

Jane felt bile rising in his throat. Lisbon shut her eyes.

"Yes. Definitely bat-shit crazy that one", Jane said.

They stayed frozen in the storm for a moment, sides pressed against each other in comfort and shock alike. Then Jane shifted, putting one arm around Lisbon, sliding it carefully under her uninjured shoulder. When she looked up at him, he said softly.

"Come on, lets get out of here."

After a few steps Lisbon felt more steady and untangled herself from Jane, but stayed close. They moved slowly and in silence. When they carefully slid past the trap, neither of them was able to look into the wolf hole at the shattered body of the man that once had been the sheriff of Barnes Hollow.

Later, Lisbon couldn't recall how long it had taken them to reach the car. She suspected it had been mere minutes. Her body, now slumping against the hood of the car, insisted it had been hours. She felt Jane's hand coming to rest on the small of her back, then, using tender pressure, coaxing her and her feet to take a few more steps. Her body, now apparently aware of the final destination, made one last effort and slid into the backseat of the car with a sigh of pain and fatigue. She closed her eyes. There was a thud, then the cry of the rising storm turned to a muffled whisper, then screamed one more time, before a second thud cut it off for good.

Lisbon leaned her head against the window. The cool, hard surface of the glass made the skin on her forehead prickle, but it was a good pain, a calming pain. She let out a long breath, enjoying the sensation, while a shiver, an outlet for the last remains of the adrenaline rush, ran though her body. For a moment she felt nothing, thought nothing. Then, with the imminent danger gone and in the relative safety of the car, her brain decided it was time to concentrate on more personal thoughts again.

Which meant that she suddenly felt incredibly stupid.

"Lisbon! Don't!" she heard Jane yell again in her head. She knew now it had been a warning not to move and had nothing to do with what she'd just said to him before. She felt so stupid. Honestly. How could she have assumed the idea of her going away with Marcus would bring *that* much horror to Jane's face? That he'd be *this* upset by the thought of her going away? Looking at her as if his life was ending, as if in this moment the world, his world, would come to an end just because she was maybe moving house?

Plain stupid.

Embarrassment rose into her cheeks, the increased blood flow making her still freezing cold skin burn, like someone was sticking a thousand hot needles into her face.

She wasn't sure if the embarrassment came from her misjudging the scene as a whole or from the strange mixture of relief, joy and fear she had felt, when she thought he actually *was* yelling at her not to go away. Or from the fact that she was now aware of a considerable amount of disappointment on finding out that he hadn't.

Not daring to even begin to think about the question when and how and why all of this had become about Jane all over sudden, she drew in another deep breath.

Instead of calming her down, it made her cough.

The cold surface of the glass, soothing before, now added to her worsening headache, the pain in her shoulder returning, pulsing in protest at the rather uncomfortable position she was currently in. She needed to relax her aching muscles, needed to move her shoulder away from the door, her forehead away from the icy window, but had no idea how.

A frown crept into her tired face and she pressed her lips together hard, biting down a small groan that threatened to escape her mouth.

It didn't.

But Jane had heard it anyway.

She felt a hand touching her uninjured shoulder. The hand rested there for a few moments, then moved down to her arm, fingers brushing softly over the fabric of her jacket. A second hand reached over her, settling lightly on her waist.

Both hands pulled.

Her body shifted.

The hand on her waist let go, moved up along her side over her neck and into her hair, guiding her head carefully to its new resting place on Jane's shoulder, a much warmer and more comfortable spot than the cold window.

It also smelled better.

She shifted a little, getting closer, moving her head, so her nose was now pressing lightly against his neck.

It was the second time today that she was this close to him.  
Which was ironic given the fact that she had spent the rest of it actually trying to avoid him.

She suddenly couldn't remember why that was anymore.

What she did remember now was falling, the world slipping away. How she was sliding down into the trap, trying desperately to hold on, to twist out of the firm hold gravity suddenly had on her. She saw Jane rushing towards her, launching into a desperate jump, his body hitting the ground hard, his arms sliding towards her, then a gut-wrenching pain, when he grabbed her wrist and pulled, fighting to get her out, trying to haul her body back to safety. She heard him grunt in pain at the effort, but he kept pulling and finally together they won the battle against gravity and she was back on safe ground.

They scrambled away from the edge of the abyss and managed to move into something the was resembling a sitting position, limbs still tangled up together, panting breaths mingling, hearts racing, bodies shaking. She felt Jane's arms tighten around her, then relax a little. Just when she had decided it was time to draw away from him and get up, he gave a loud sigh of relief and, without warning, let his body fall backwards into the snow.

Since he hadn't bothered to let go of her, she was now practically lying on top of him.

He was still panting hard, eyes closed, trying to catch his breath.

So was she.

The position she was in wasn't really helpful, though.

But when a quick struggle against his grip failed to have any kind of calming effect, she gave up and let her muscles go limp, resting her head on his chest for a moment, listening to his breathing, to his heartbeat, feeling the warmth of his body slowly reaching for her through their combined clothes. He tightened his arms around her again for a moment, like he never wanted to let go.

Which she didn't mind.  
Because she found she didn't want to either.  
She also found she was surprisingly calm now.

A sudden shiver ran through him, a protest against the cold that had started to seep from the icy ground he was lying on through his jacket and jeans into his back. Still he didn't get up, didn't move, just reluctantly and slowly let his arms fall to his sides. Lisbon was still sprawled across his body, protected from the cold beneath. When he started shivering a little more and before her brain had any chance to process or protest against what she was about to do, she reached out her hands and started to rub warmth into his arms, his shoulders, his chest. His left arm reached back around her, stroking her back.

The last thing she remembered before both their brains had finally kicked back in and they had scrambled back to their feet, was him pressing the smallest of kisses into her hair.

Which, to her own surprise, she hadn't minded either.

* * *

_A/N: Phew, that one took longer than expected. Right, now off to put the shoelaces back into my boots and pick up all the pillows I used to simulate the avalanche. The things you do… LOL. Still to come: a hundred words for snow, wet socks and cold feet and daydreams revisited._


	8. Dreaming of White

_A/N: Thank you for still reading this. Means a lot. Especially today when I'm sad and tired and lonely, because this stupid bronchitis still isn't over yet. Which means I probably won't get to write and post my favourite chapter until next weekend :( But at least I still managed to get this one done. And I hope you like it._

* * *

His feet were cold. So was his nose. And his hands. And basically the whole rest of him, with the tiny exception of a spot on his neck, where her breath bathed his skin in a warm caress every time she exhaled. It made him close his eyes — and the prospect of hypothermia a lot more bearable.

Aside from feeling cold, he realised he was starting to feel drowsy. Which wasn't good. He knew he had to rouse Lisbon from her sleep soon. They needed to move. The car only offered them temporary shelter, because without a working battery to power the heating system, the temperature inside the vehicle had already dropped to uncomfortably frosty levels. They needed to find better shelter, somewhere warm and dry and preferably with hot water, a kettle, blankets and a working phone-line.

In that exact order.

He'd spotted a holiday cabin on the map, only two miles from here. Didn't seem far, but two miles in this weather wasn't going to be much fun.

It was better than freezing to death in a rental car, though.

Death.

He swallowed hard against the fear rising inside him.

He'd almost lost her today.

Twice.

It had scared the hell out of him.

Given everything that life had thrown at him up to this point, there were not a lot of things left that could frighten him this deeply. He could, actually, narrow it down to three. Which was, he had to admit, rather scary in itself, so he corrected that number first to three and a half and then on further reflection to four.

Number one on his list of fears — he had of late found he was rather fond of lists — was exactly this scenario:

Losing Lisbon.

It was the one thing he knew would end him.

In quiet moments, when this particular fear crept into his thoughts unannounced and unwelcome, Jane usually closed his eyes and imagined hurling it up the dark stairway, gripping it tight, forcing it down the short dark corridor towards the big door ahead. He imagined pale morning light spilling out from the half open door, pulling him towards the room beyond, beckoning him to come in. But he resisted the urge to step into the room, to be enveloped by familiar scents and sights and memories. Instead he gritted his teeth — as much in the real world as in his mind — and shoved the fear into the room, hastily pulled the door shut and clicked the padlock into place. Then he let himself go downstairs again, matching his breathing to the steps he climbed down. Counting. Breathing. Relaxing. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs he was usually calm again. He tried to ignore the fact that the number of stairs in his mind had no relation to the number of stairs in the real building in Sacramento anymore.

It had more than doubled.

He tried not think about what that meant, because if he did, he might have to imagine an oxygen tank for the next time he climbed into the attic.

Fears number two and number three on his list were in a way directly linked to number one, so he never gave them much thought and/or worry. Cause and effect. If he prevented number one from happening, the rest would never be an issue.

He'd almost lost her today. Twice. And that wasn't even counting the prospect of her moving away with another man.

If he included that, the number would rise to three.

Which was unacceptable.

He knew she was always going to put herself in danger. That came with the job. And the job was an essential part of her that nothing and no one had the right to take away from her. So there wasn't much he could do about that. Well, at least not much more than he already did. Keeping her safe. Looking out of her. Even though he knew about 90 percent of the time she didn't need it. But those remaining ten percent he had covered. As long as he was her partner. As long as he was at her side.

Which he wouldn't have been anymore if she'd moved to New York with Pike. Which meant a ten percent increase in the chances of her being wounded or killed on the job.

Those odds were also unacceptable.

She stirred, pressing her nose further into his neck, a shiver running through her. She was cold.

"Lisbon", he called softly.

She made an unhappy noise and frowned, then slowly opened her eyes and blinked herself awake in a mixture of confusion, embarrassment and annoyance. He smiled at her.

"This is your requested wakeup-call."

In a way, he thought, it was rather one for him than her.

He needed to stop wasting time. He needed to change the odds. In his favour. In their favour. Soon. And forever.

Lisbon's frown deepened as she sat up. There was an odd expression on Jane's face, but before she could begin to make sense of it, he'd replaced it with a smile.

One of the kind that didn't really reach his eyes.

"How long was I out?", she asked, knowing that asking anything else wouldn't lead to an honest answer.

"About fifteen minutes", Jane said, wiping a hand across the steamy window to get a better view. "I think the storm is getting weaker. Lisbon, there's a holiday cabin two miles from here, maybe we should try and get there."

She massaged her shoulder, then rotated it experimentally. The pain was gone, replaced by a dull and faint ache. Which meant that, except for a big bruise, she'd probably be fine.

"A two mile walk in a snow-storm? You think that's a good idea, Jane? We could get lost. And even if we find the cabin, what if it's locked?"

He rolled his eyes at her and raised his hands.

"Seriously? What if it's *locked*? That's insulting, Lisbon."

"No, that's breaking and entering, Jane."

"It's an emergency!"

She gave it some thought. He was right. Staying here was not an option. No one would be coming looking for them any time soon. And by the time they did, it would probably be too late. She sighed.

"Okay. You're right. Lets go."

Jane was also right about the storm. It was a little less severe and once they had entered the forest and left the ravine, the clearing and the road behind, the trees provided some additional shelter. Lisbon could see the storm raging on above them, tearing at the tree-tops, bending them back and forth, howling at branches, leaves, needles and at the forest itself. Down on the path they were travelling on, the wind was nothing more than a whisper in comparison.

But it was still freezing cold.

Jane was walking in front of her, the map sticking out of his left jacket-pocket. They had followed the path for a few minutes, when he suddenly turned his head to look at her.

"How is your shoulder?"

"Fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes. I'm fine. The nap in the car helped. Thanks…. for that."

She felt herself blushing. Jane grinned, shortening his stride, until she had no choice but to walk next to him. She glared at him. A clear warning not to cross the line.

"I bet it did. You were out like a light."

For once it seemed to work.

"Did you dream about something nice?"

Or not.

"I didn't dream, Jane."

"Sure you did. I can tell. What did you dream about?"

She shrugged, then winced, then shook her head.

"I'm telling you. About nothing. Everything was just… white."

"Ah."

She frowned at him irritably. "That's it?"

"That's what?"

"You poke and prod me to tell you and then all you have to say about it is "ah"?"

He shrugged.

"What more do you want me to say about it?"

She rolled her eyes at him, then gave an exasperated huff.

"Nothing, Jane, it's not important."

"Then why do you want me to have an opinion about it?" he asked raising his eyebrows in a mixture of curiosity and smugness. It was a sure way to get her annoyed with him.

"I don't… urgh… Jane.."

"Don't "Jane" me", he interrupted her. Instead of walking steadily on, he decided to take a couple of skipping steps, grinning at her broadly when her glare intensified. Which wasn't helping. Because instead of getting him to behave like an adult, it only made him laugh.

"So you dreamt of white", he said, returning to a normal pace. "You know why that is, don't you?"

She rolled her eyes at him again.

"Jeez, I don't know, Jane, maybe because we're stuck in a snowstorm?"

"Nah, that's not it", Jane said. "Do you know what the colour white represents?"

"Anger? Annoyance? The urge to kick you?"

"Purity. And innocence and… hey, don't snort at me… you dreamt about it, not me."

"Now that goes without saying. There is nothing innocent about you."

"Thank you, I take that as a compliment", Jane said, winking at her.

"New beginnings, Lisbon. A clean slate."

Lisbon stumbled over the root of a tree hidden beneath the snow, but managed to find her balance again, before Jane could reach out a hand to steady her. She shook her head.

"Sorry, what?"

"White. Clean slate. Blank canvas. The colour of new beginnings."

He stole a careful glance at her, bending his back and lowering his head to look beneath the hood of her jacket.

"That ring a bell?"

Lisbon looked away.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do. So does it? Ring a bell? Jog your memory? Put down…"

"Can you shut up for a while? Seriously, stop irking me, Jane."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, made a big step that ended with pushing his foot harder than necessary into the snow and let out a whining sigh.

"I'm cold, Lisbon. It's not my fault. I'm always irksome when I'm cold."

"You're always irksome. Full stop."

"Don't change the subject. It won't work."

"I'm not. You're being irksome is always a subject as far as I am concerned."

"Fine. Ok, don't talk to me." he said with a pout. "But if you don't, I'll be cross and sad on top of being cold and we still have quite a long walk ahead of us."

She tilted her head, glad he couldn't properly see the small smile on her face, then said in something she hoped would resemble shock:

"Are you threatening me?"

"No. Just saying."

"What? That if I don't entertain you, you're going to behave like a five-year-old?"

"Are we there yet, Lisbon? Are we there yet?"

Lisbon laughed and threw up her arms in surrender.

"Ok, fine, fine. I'll talk to you."

He grinned. "Good. Any specific subject you want to talk about?", he asked in a casual tone.

"How about saving energy by observing silence while outside in freezing temperatures?", she replied with a sweet smile.

"Meh. Come on Lisbon, I'm freeeeeezing here", he pleaded with her, wrapping his arms around himself and making rubbing motions to emphasise his point.

"I need distraction from all this… cold."

She bit her lower lip, feeling a little guilty. She'd almost forgotten he was missing an essential layer of winter clothing.

"Want my jacket for a while?", she offered.

"No. Because then you will be cold, too. And that will make you a lot more irritable than I am at the moment."

She laughed. "Yeah, right…"

He gestured around them.

"Ok. No talking. So how about a game then?"

"Jane…"

"I spy with my little eye something beginning with s."

She rolled her eyes again.

"Oh please…"

"What?"

The pleading, innocent puppy look he gave her made her insides melt. And he knew exactly that it did. Bastard. But he was a miserably freezing bastard right now and if it distracted him from the cold for a little while, what harm could it do?

She slid the hood back a little to widen her field of vision, then gave him an amused smile.

"S… really", she tapped her mouth with a finger, then raised her eyebrows at him mockingly.

"Bit disappointing. I would have expected you to come up with something more creative than snow."

He grinned and shook his head. "It isn't snow."

"No?"

"No."

Now she was intrigued. There was nothing else around them than snow. And trees. And more snow. And more trees. And them.

"Ok, let me think… can't be shoelaces, because you don't have any anymore."

"Don't remind me.." Jane scoffed, stumbling along beside her in the snow. It was much harder to walk when your shoes weren't really firmly attached to your feet anymore and were scooping up snow with every step you took.

"Sycamore tree", Lisbon said.

"No."

Jane motioned for her to stop, then, with an excited smile on his face, pointed up into a tree. Lisbon followed his line of sight. There was clump of leaves and twigs lodged between two thick branches, a ball of brown and green and white. Lisbon narrowed her eyes. In the middle of the ball was a small hole and a little nose sticking out of it.

"Squirrel", Jane said triumphantly. "Cute, isn't it?"

"Don't they hibernate?"

"Technically? No. They just sleep a lot when it's cold."

The nose disappeared back into the nest.

"I bet it's warm and cosy in there", Jane said with a long depressed sigh.

"Yeah, I bet. Come on, Frosty, get a move on."

She ushered him on with an impatient wave of her hand. He huffed at her indignantly.

"No need to be mean", he complained.

"There's always a need to be mean when you start whining", she replied.

"I'm not whining."

"Yes you are."

"Then tell me something. Distract me."

"Why would I?"

"Because I saved your life?"

She flinched. Then pretended to re-adjust the straps on the backpack and slowed her steps, bringing some distance between them. He cursed himself. That hadn't been fair. Or funny. Hastily scrambling back to safer conversational territory he said.

"Alright. How about I tell *you* something?"

He could feel Lisbon rolling her eyes at him behind his back.

"This will be a monologue about a not very funny fun fact, am I right? Something like "Did you know, Lisbon, that Eskimos have a hundred different words for snow…", she mumbled.

"Actually, Lisbon,… the Eskimo-Aleut languages have about the same number of distinct word roots referring to snow as English does, but their structure allows more variety as to how those roots can be used in forming a word. So…"

Jane felt something hit the back of his jacket.

"I'm more interested in the number of distinct word roots referring to the term smart-ass in English."

"Funny", he growled without turning round.

She tilted her head. "No, I'm pretty sure that's not one of them."

He had to duck to pass safely under the low hanging branch of a tree. Once he was almost clear, he managed to brush it with his shoulder ever so slightly. The branch moved and his action had the desired effect: It resulted in a yelp from somewhere behind him. He grinned, the sounds of Lisbon brushing the snow from her jacket mingled with something that was definitely a creative variation on the word root discussed before.

Then another snowball hit the back of his jacket.

"Who is acting like a five-year-old now?", he called over his shoulder, then with a cry of fear jumped behind the nearest tree in search for cover, when something whizzed past his left ear.

Another snowball hit the tree with a thump.

"I surrender!", he called out to her, waving the map at her like a white flag.

Lisbon laughed, when very slowly a few blonde curls emerged from behind the tree, then a forehead, then one careful eye and the tip of a nose. Somehow Jane looked a lot like the squirrel in the tree.

"Really? That was easy", she said in slightly surprised triumph. The rest of Jane re-emerged from behind the tree.

"Yeah, well. You're a cop and you grew up with male siblings. Which means: Better aim, more efficient strategies and tactics, because you had lots of practice at this. I know when I am faced with a superior player. No use drawing it out. Cut your losses and hang your head in shame."

She laughed and shook her head at him. He grinned happily at her, clearly pleased with himself that he'd made her laugh. Which, she realised, had been his goal all along. This had never been about distracting him. It had been about distracting her.  
Her laughter faded and she gave him a long look. He stood there, holding her gaze. She sighed, then shrugged, then started walking. He fell into step beside her. Silent. Waiting.

"Alright. Fine." she finally said, taking a deep breath.

"Marcus got a promotion. He will be heading up the New York field office. Starting in two weeks. And he's asked me to come with him."

When she fell silent again, Jane inquired. "And what was your answer?"

She gave him an angry look, then snorted, slightly irritated by his soothing almost fatherly tone.

"As if you didn't know."

"I don't", he said carefully. "I know what your choice was. And I can see that something about it clearly distresses you. Distresses you so much that you don't even want to discuss it with yourself, let alone me."

"Yeah, well, what did you expect? That I'd be happy about being forced to break up with him? Of course that distresses me, Jane!"

"Interesting choice of words", Jane said.

"Jane. Don't", it came out as a low growl, the words in it barely audible. He ignored the warning and went on.

"Forced to. As if this wasn't your choice? Beyond your control?"

"Becaue it wasn't", she barked. "It was his."

"How so?"

"He made the choice to accept the job without telling me…"

"Which you cannot really blame him for. It's his career after all."

"He also made the choice to get *me* a job there without telling me. A better one than I have here."

"Okay… "

"And he made the choice to buy a bloody flat for us to move into together without telling me either. Even set a date for the move."

"Ouch."

Jane made a face and flinched. He felt almost sorry for Pike now. No faster way to make her run than making her feel out of control.

"I mean", Lisbon said throwing her hands in the air to vent some of the nervous energy now suddenly rippling through her again. "It was as if I had nothing to say in the matter, as if what I wanted didn't count. As if this wasn't a choice at all."

Jane knew how easy it would be to agree with her. To feed her anger at Marcus. To make her think this whole relationship with him had been a mistake. It was so tempting. To use the right words in just the right tone of voice. To put emphasis on just the right phrases, to touch her at the right time, to look at her the right time. So bloody tempting to manipulate her into casting Marcus out for good. To make himself the better man by making her despise the other one. So tempting to take this shortcut that was right in front of him.

"Lisbon…"

Her name on his tongue snapped him out of it. Lisbon. This was Lisbon. The temptation was gone.

"He wanted to surprise you. To spoil you. Do something monumental for you to prove his worth. You can fault his choice of gift. But you can't fault his intentions."

When Lisbon rolled her eyes this time, he was afraid they might come out of their sockets.

"How is it that guys always stick together, huh? Why are you defending him? You hate him!"

"Hate is a strong word. And this isn't about me. This is about you."

Lisbon bristled with outrage.

"Oh, all over sudden? You've been a pest for weeks, trying to mess with my relationship with him and now that it's over this is suddenly none of your business anymore?"

"That's not what I'm saying, Lisbon!" Jane's voice rose to match hers. "Your well-being will always be my business! Always! Even at times when you clearly don't want it to be."

He tried to calm him voice down. "Look", he said with a sigh. "All I am saying is, that he didn't do this to take away your choices. He simply assumed you would the same ones as he did."

She lowered her head.

"Which I clearly didn't…", she said quietly.

"So you don't want a better job in New York?"

"No."

"Or the lovely flat that tries not to look expensive but clearly is?"

"Hell, no."

"Why?"

She blinked at him, ready to burst into another fit of anger. When she saw the same serious curiosity in his face that she'd heard in his voice she was taken aback. She had expected him to grin knowingly at her, letting her see that he'd already figured out her reasoning before she herself had. But he hadn't rushed ahead, hadn't rummaged around in her head to be the first to find the answer. He was with her. Right here. Right now. Waiting for her to find it.

And to tell him.

"Because…" she started, then fell silent, then tried again. "Because I don't want to live in New York. I don't want to switch jobs again. I don't want to move in with him. I mean, I like him. I really do and we've had a really good time, but…"

She shrugged. "At the end of the day I don't think that's enough for such a big commitment."

"He clearly thinks it is", Jane said softly, stepping over a rock in the middle of the path. His left boot feel almost off his foot. He glowered at it, unhappy at the distraction.

"He'd do anything to make you happy", he said once the renegade boot was back where it belonged.

She shrugged again. "I know he'd try. I know he would. But I don't think he'd succeed. I don't think…"

She hesitated. He made sure to keep eye-contact, not turning his gaze back on the path, not even breathing, concentrating everything he was, everything he had on communicating to her the one thing he needed her to understand.

That she could trust him.  
With everything that really mattered.  
Always.

"I don't think… I'd let him."

It was nothing more than a breath, a whisper so small, the words wrapped up in an almost sound proof bubble of defeat, that Jane almost didn't catch them.

He started breathing again.  
But blinking was still out of the question.  
Even though his eyes started burning.

"I…", she gave another helpless shrug, then a short humourless laugh. "I think part of me wanted this to fail, is relieved that it did", she admitted.

The path suddenly became steep, leading up through the forest to a clearing. They had to put some effort into their movements now and fell silent during the short climb.

Carefully putting one foot in front of the other, Lisbon remembered the very last words Marcus had said to her. After hours of silence on the road, he'd suddenly turned to her when they were forced to wait at a red light.

"This was never going to last, was it? Because that's not what you do, is it? Long-term relationships? Real closeness? Sharing your life with someone?"

"Marcus. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't come with you."

He nodded. "I have to accept that. And I'm sorry, too."

He had fallen silent again, then suddenly raised his head in surprise and looked at her.

"Is that what Jane is all about?"

"What?"

"You and Jane. Is that why it's working? Why it's different with him? Why he's the only man in your life who's still around after more than a decade? Because he's the safe option?"

She was too stunned to be angry at him. "You do know Patrick Jane, don't you? How is that man ever going to be a safe option?"

Marcus shrugged. "Because you never *had* to let him get too close, did you? You wanted him when you couldn't have him and now that you could, you have a dozen reasons why you won't. Or maybe just one."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm right, am I not? You had feelings for him, but circumstances were preventing you from ever acting on them. Safe option. And now that those circumstances are gone and nothing prevents you from acting on your feelings, you just pretend they don't exist anymore. As I said. Safe option."

At the time she'd dismissed it as outrageous, but now, here, in the middle of nowhere, thinking back on it, it made her wonder.

What if he was right about her?  
On both counts?

They had reached the top of the climb and were catching their breaths. Once they started walking again, Jane was looking at her with a calm intensity again, fixing his attention, all his attention on back on her. She returned his gaze with uncertainty.

"And you think that means you're what, Lisbon? A bad person? A hopeless case of commitment anxiety?"

She looked away and shrugged.

"I don't know. You tell me."

He shook his head. "Teresa."

The use of her first name brought her eyes back to his. When he had her attention again, he said.

"Maybe all it means is that your subconscious is telling you that he's simply not the right man for you."

She gave a short laugh, pushing her hands deeply into her pockets.

"Maybe. I mean, you didn't think he was. And as much as I hate to admit it, you're usually good at these things", she mumbled into her scarf.

"True, but… "

Now it was his turn to hesitate. She looked up at him again. He was clearly wrestling with something. To any outsider it wouldn't be obvious, but she could tell. He gave her a lopsided grin and a little shrug.

"… my judgment in this case may have been clouded for… very, very selfish reasons."

She stared at him. Then blinked. Did he just… blush? Did Patrick Jane just blush? And let her see it? Before she could even begin to process any of it, he stopped dead in his tracks and the grin on his face spread into a wild smile. He raised his arms into the air.

"Shelter! Civilisation! Tea!"

In front of them, rising out of the white wilderness was the dark structure of a building.

Jane gave a happy little hoot and started running.

"Come on, Lisbon. I promise if it takes me more than 30 seconds to pick that lock, you're allowed to use all the hot water in the shower."

She felt a smile lighting up her face.

And chased after him.


	9. Striped Socks & Golden Light

_A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews on chapter 8. After all the cold and snow, this one is all about warmth and golden light and daydreams and rest. And I've been dying to write it for weeks ;-)_

* * *

"I am not being unreasonable. You promised me hot water and a shower. So. I want my hot water and my shower."

There was only one thing that made it almost impossible even for the great Patrick Jane to keep a straight face. And that was Teresa Lisbon looking up at him like that, green eyes sparkling with energy— angry, challenging, reproachful, pleading, playful and a little amused. In its full glory, the mixture was an adorable sight.

He raised his eyebrows, crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned a little forward, deliberately pushing into her personal space and — daring to take it to the next level — poking her uninjured shoulder.

"Well, Lisbon, may I remind you, it took me less than 30 seconds to pick the lock."

Lisbon, taking a step towards him in defiance, raised her head and fixed her eyes firmly on his. Their noses were almost touching.

"Well, Jane, may I remind _you_, it will take _me_ less than 30 seconds to kick your butt."

He drew back a little, straightened his back and let out a long sigh of annoyance.

"Remind me again: How is the power-outage my fault exactly?"

Lisbon gave him a sweet smile.

"Everything is your fault."

"Ah. Of course it is. How foolish of me to forget."

He scoffed, unfolded his arms, let his hands slide into the pockets of his by now uncomfortably damp jacket and looked down to his lace-less boots, before his face could betray him and tell her that he actually enjoyed this.

Which she probably knew anyway.

They stood in the middle of a dark room, dark silhouettes against slightly less dark surroundings, outlines of furniture and boarded-up windows bleeding into shadows of different furniture, walls and corners. The air was cold and smelled like damp and bleach and air freshener and wood and rotten leaves and emptiness all at once. It was a strange smell, not artificial, but not natural either. It was almost more creepy in here, Lisbon thought, than it had been out there in the white wilderness. After spending all this time outside, being in a confined space made her suddenly feel a little uneasy. Not exactly claustrophobic, but not exactly relaxed either. She thought there was movement in the shadows, waves of darkness rolling along the wood and the stone, reaching out to them, then recoiling, once they realised a living being had entered their territory.

She knew it was only her eyes playing tricks on her. Once they had adjusted to the new lighting-conditions she'd be fine.

Well, fine-_ish_.

Jane started moving back towards the front door.

"Where are you going?", she asked.

"Trying to see if I can get the generator to work. So we can have electricity for the boiler. So you can have your hot shower. And I can get some peace and quiet."

"And what do you know about fixing generators?"

"Ah, more than you might think, Lisbon. I'll just have a quick look."

And with that he headed back outside into the snow, closing the door behind him.

Lisbon stood in the dark room, the sudden silence within it deafening and strange. Her brain, not being able to cope with the quiet, replaced it with a high-pitched white noise, that was equally uncomfortable, though a little more familiar. It was cold in the room, not as freezing as it was outside, but not warm enough to make a difference to her cold feet and prickling skin and numb fingers. She stayed where she was for another moment, stunned, because beneath the silence and the cold lingered a very sudden, very unexpected and absolutely ridiculous feeling of loss.

This morning she had wished herself as far away from Patrick Jane as possible.  
Now it seemed, she could barely stand it that he was on the other side of a *door*.

She shook her head, then started to concentrate on exploring the cabin. She tried every light-switch she came across, but none of them worked. Neither did the very old-fashioned telephone in the corridor. The power was still out. By the time she heard the front-door open with a swoosh and close again with a thud, she had made her way through the dark living-room into a small kitchen and ultimately into an even smaller study. A huge bay-window covered one side of the room. Since it wasn't boarded up like the others, it allowed grey light to seep into the cabin, turning the shadows back into a desk, a chair, a couple of book-shelves, an arm-chair and a small reading-table.

And a big metal case marked "Emergency" stuffed in a corner. It contained among other things a first-aid-kit and a radio.

"Lisbon!?", Jane called into the darkness.

A muffled reply came from somewhere in the cabin. The words didn't make it across the three rooms, but the remaining noise that did clearly indicated slight excitement. So she was alright. And had probably found something useful.

He wasn't, though. Because he hadn't been able to get the generator to work. It hadn't been for lack of trying, though. It had simply been for lack of fuel.

But at least he'd found something useful as well.  
Sort of.

He walked across the dark room and dumped the first armful of firewood into the even darker space that was the firebox opening. A couple of minutes later, the sound of a match being struck startled the shadows in the room. Another minute later, warm golden light chased them away and revealed for the first time what the room actually looked like. Jane whistled appreciatively. Outside something sounding suspiciously like thunder rumbled through the darkening afternoon. After allowing himself a minute of rest in front of the warming fire, Jane went outside again to fetch more wood. It seemed the storm had decided it wasn't finished with Barnes Mountain yet. After three more trips to the shed at the back of the cabin, Jane pushed the front-door shut one final time, noting with more than slight concern that he needed a lot more strength to do so than before. He drew the bolt just in case and checked the latches on the windows.

Then he turned around, let his gaze sweep across the room and rubbed his hands together.

"Right. This could take a while. Time to get comfy."

Lisbon switched off the radio and sat down on the edge of the desk with an exasperated huff. The excitement of finding the bloody thing had already turned into anger and frustration and that in return now led to a feeling of exhaustion and fatigue that made her knees buckle. She was aware that she practically hadn't slept in two days, walked through a snow-storm, wrestled with a murderer and broken up with her boyfriend among other things, so being exhausted did not come as a surprise.

Neither did the undercurrent of frustration, defeat and impatience it carried.

So she'd found the radio. And it was working. It was actually working. But — surprise — there was no one on the other end to answer her plea for help. Only static, happily bubbling from the speaker. At least the battery was charged, so that was something. They just had to repeat their SOS every few minutes and until then sit tight. Reaching out a hand, she flipped the light-switch again. Nothing happened.

"Jane?" she called without getting up.

There was no answer. She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her remaining strength, then tried again.

"Jane?"

Still no answer. Damn it, what on earth was he up to now? She slid off the desk and made her way back towards the living-room, reluctant to leave the study which had been cold as well, but at least not as dark as the rest of the cabin.

She felt her patience with both darkness and cold was running out fast. Dragging her feet along the corridor, she sighed again, wishing herself back to sunny Sacramento for a moment. She pushed open the door to the living-room, thinking about California, where it had been warm and bright and…

_Wow._

Lisbon blinked. And forgot all about California.

The room was golden. There was no other word for it. Warm, golden light spilling into every nook and cranny, gliding over dark wood and light stone, over soft fabric and hard metal, diving from high-beamed ceiling down into thick wooly carpet. The source of the light was fire. A warm, golden, red fire, all dancing flames and crackling whispers, set in a huge firebox, framed by massive, natural stone slaps left, right and on top. There was no security-glass between the fire and the room, just another massive stone slap serving as a hearth extension and providing all the necessary fire-proofing. The wall behind the firebox consisted of slates of the same creme-coloured stone, while the other walls were covered with beautiful dark wood. The whole firebox was set in an alcove, that was made up with enormous peeled logs. Two massive beams stood to the left and right of the fire-place. Another on was placed across on top. On top of that two more, forming a triangle along the walls of the roof. Lisbon wasn't usually one to go for the rustic look and if there had been a stuffed moose-head — or worse — mounted on the wall or a bearskin in front of the fireplace, she'd probably have taken her chances with the storm.

But this.  
This was beautiful.

From the wooden logs to the rough stones, from the comfortable looking red-and-white-plaid twin-sofas and the matching arm-chair to the thick light grey carpet.

This wasn't a dark and creepy place anymore. This was the most warm and welcoming room she'd ever been in.

The smell was different, too, now, all slow burning wood and smoke and campfire memories and… something that smelled suspiciously like camomile tea.

Lisbon frowned.

"Jane?"

Clutter. Somewhere in the direction of the kitchen.

_Jane._

Lisbon turned her attention back on the room, now aware something seemed off. It took her a second to figure out that it was the arrangement of the sofas in the room. They were supposed to be set perpendicular to the fireplace facing each other across the carpet. But the right one was positioned parallel and a little closer to the fireplace now and Lisbon smiled, aware that it had clearly been moved there very recently.

_Also Jane._

She went over to it and let herself fall into the soft cushions, the warmth from the fire tentatively reaching out towards her frozen face. Her fingertips were tingling now and after holding her hands up and moving her fingers, she had regained enough sensitivity in them to untie her boots and slide them off her cold feet. Her socks were a bit clammy, but not too wet, so she decided to leave them on for now. Her left foot moved against something soft and she looked down curiously. There was a small mountain of soft cushions and cozy blankets next to her left foot. And on top of it two pairs of striped thick wooly socks.

She was glad the crackling of the fire swallowed the choking sound that suddenly managed to escape her throat.

Her feet now happily bathing in the warmth and softness of fresh socks, she peeled off her jacket and stepped closer to the fire, letting the heat sink into her skin. When it couldn't penetrate the rest of her clothes fast enough, she unzipped the black fleece-jacket as well and dumped it onto the sofa, thereby allowing the fire to bring warmth to her now bare arms and crawl lazily under her black t-shirt. She closed her eyes. This was better. Much better. Golden shadows danced across her closed eye-lids and she listened to the fire, to the faint mumbling of the storm outside, fatigue and exhaustion now slowly transforming themselves into comfortable drowsiness.

Jane knew the tea he had been fantasising about for the last few hours and which was finally within his grasp — meaning in the big white mug in his left hand — was getting cold.

He couldn't care less.

He cared a little more about the fact that the coffee in the other cup was getting cold as well.

But he just couldn't bring himself to move.  
His body refused all his commands, no matter how hard he tried.  
Which wasn't that much, he knew he wasn't really putting his heart into it.

Because that was currently occupied with something else.

He watched her get up, a wide smile on her face, sliding the jacket off her arms and tossing it aside, stepping towards the fire, stretching, leaning into the heat. When she unzipped the fleece and tossed that aside as well, he swallowed hard, eyes roaming over her bare arms and over her tight black t-shirt. When she pulled it out of her jeans, and, for a moment, his eyes caught hold of just a hint of skin beneath it, he forgot to breathe. It seemed every fibre in his body was still, saving every bit of energy so he could give all his attention to her, to finally properly *look* at her without guilt or restraint or fear. Remember her. In this moment. How she ran a hand through her dark hair, how the expression on her face changed from exhaustion to something soft and content and happy. How the heat made her skin glow, the paleness and all the sorrow and the pain and the worry it had contained now gone. How beautiful she was, standing there in front of the fire, eyes closed, breathing softening. And how he was the only one allowed to see it. To remember it.

That was, if he lived to remember it.  
Reluctantly he started breathing again.

She heard him pad into the room, the muffled sounds his feet made, telling her that he had discarded his boots as well. She didn't turn round, didn't even open her eyes, just listened to the fire and him moving around somewhere behind her, setting something down on the wooden coffee-table next to the sofa. Then he moved away again and the room fell silent once more.

She opened her eyes and turned her head when the scent of coffee mixed with tea reached her nose. She spotted the two mugs on the table and was tempted to reach for the coffee right then and there, but decided to wait until Jane got back from wherever it was he had disappeared to.

Maybe he had managed to locate cookies as well.

She closed her eyes again and let her hands brush over her arms. The fire was doing a good job at warming her up, but the room was large and there was a small draft. Just when she decided to reach for her cold and slightly damp fleece again, she heard Jane's footsteps behind her. Heard him manoeuvre around the couch and the cushions and blankets. Felt him getting nearer, until he was standing so close behind her, that she could feel his breath on her skin. Hers felt funny for a moment.

"Still cold?" he asked with a smile in his voice.

"A little. But better. Thank you."

She felt him move again, then something brushed against her hands and she opened her eyes. He was holding up what looked like a hand-knitted cardigan.

"Found this upstairs", he said quietly, holding it, so she could slide her arms into the sleeves, sliding a hand through her hair to lift it out and then, when she was all tucked in, moving both his hands to her shoulders and, after a job well done, giving them some time to rest there.

She almost hummed in approval, but managed to turn the sound into actual words just before it left her lips.

"I should be the one to ask you. You were the one without a proper jacket."

"And gloves. My hands still feel frozen", he murmured close to her ear, letting his hands slowly slide down her arms, until his fingers brushed the bare skin on her wrists in order to prove his words.

"I think I might have gotten frostbite", he complained with a mixture between a whine and a chuckle.

And then, just as he was about to move his hands and himself away from her, his fingertips leaving her skin and a tingling sensation behind, her breath did the funny thing again.

And her hands just moved.

Her fingers curled around his wrists, holding him in place for a moment, until she felt the muscles in his arms relax. When she moved her fingers softly over his skin, she felt how incredibly cold he still was compared to her. Her fingers came to a rest on top of his. She felt him shiver behind her at the touch of her warm hands, felt his breath going faster just for a second, before he had it back under control. Slowly she moved their hands closer to her body until their fingers were brushing the hem of her t-shirt. She felt the muscles under his skin tense, when his fingertips touched the fabric, but before he could do or say anything, she slid their joined hands under her shirt.

"Lisbon, what are you…", Jane managed to breathe, before the cold palms of his hands made contact with her burning skin and the rest of the question turned into a gasp and his brain to jelly. Just before it shut down completely, it registered Lisbon making a similar sound.

Then neither of them made any kind of sound for a while.

After what could have been seconds or minutes, Lisbon couldn't really tell, she felt Jane shift again, felt him pulling her closer, until her back was resting against his chest. He lowered his head, resting his chin on her shoulder, a small sigh of content brushing her ear. She smiled.

"Better?", she asked.

"Unexpected", he replied.

"Body-heat. Fastest way to get warm", she explained matter-of-factly.

He chuckled. "I need to remember that. Quite useful."

She laughed softly. "As if you hadn't known that before."

"Knowledge and experience are two different things. I knew it. I never experienced it before", he mumbled into her neck. After a moment he added.

"And I am thankful for the experience and don't want to complain, but...", he hesitated a moment. "What brought this on?"

Lisbon shrugged. It felt funny with him on her shoulder. In a strangely good way. "I don't know. Consider it a thank you for the fire and the socks and the coffee."

"Which is probably cold by now", he pointed out, then fell silent, as he felt the last of bit of cold leave his fingers, his palms now as warm as her skin. He wondered how long she would let him stay there and decided to enjoy every single second that remained.

She felt life and warmth return into his hands, the cool tingling on her skin beneath his fingers now shifting into a hot, burning sensation that made her want to gasp again — although for different reasons than before. She knew she had to stop this, stop it now, before the rest of her brain could make her do something even more stupid than this. He'd fallen silent a while ago and she was afraid he might have fallen asleep on her shoulder. She turned her head carefully and opened her eyes, trying to get a glimpse of him. She could only see his nose and a small part of his face, but it was enough.

She'd never seen him like this before.  
He was happy.

Clearly happy. That's what it was. Happiness. Untainted, unreserved, unconditional happiness.

She didn't have the heart to take it away from him.

The radio on the other hand, had no such reservations and suddenly gave a loud crackling sound.

Both of them jumped apart.

Jane to the side and Lisbon onto the sofa. She grabbed the radio and without hesitation and not even losing a second to get into a sitting position repeated her SOS from earlier.

The only reply they got was the spiteful snigger of static.

"Damn it", Lisbon said, hitting the sofa in frustration.

"Sheriff's office is probably on the receiving end of this", Jane said. "Which means we'll have to try until the cleaner gets in or Cho and Pike get back there."

"And we have no clue when that will be", Lisbon sighed. Jane shrugged. "Ah well. We're safe. We're warm. We've got tea, coffee and I'm sure I can find us something to eat around here somewhere. Could be worse."

"Yeah", she agreed. "We could be lying in a wolf hole impaled by wooden spikes." She shivered despite the cosy warmth in the room.

"Jane", she asked, not meeting his eyes, but looking down at the radio. "What do you think was that all about? Do you really think he was insane?"

"Don't you?"

"He didn't seem insane this morning."

"No", Jane agreed. "He didn't. And that's the weird thing. He wasn't insane. Yesterday. I might have missed the lines on the map, but I wouldn't have missed insanity, no matter how distracted I was."

He let himself sink down in front of the fireplace, resting his back against the sofa and absent-mindedly rearranging the cushions and blankets. For a moment Lisbon wondered if he wanted to built a fort with them. For another moment she wondered if she wanted to help him.

She sat down on the carpet beside him, careful to keep a little distance, but not much.

"So if it's not insanity what it is then?"

"I don't know. Yet. But we do know that he can't be responsible for the other killings. The two women who were suffocated. The two men who were burnt alive. That must have been someone else. Acting on instructions."

"From this divine teacher?"

Jane nodded, stretching his legs out in front of him and letting his head fall back against the sofa. He closed his eyes. Lisbon noticed he was wearing the same socks as she was.

"We'll figure out who he or she is. And then everything else will fall into place. Probably find something in the sheriff's office or his home. You'll see, Lisbon. We'll figure this one out."

"I have no doubt whatsoever", she said, looking at him with a smile. He smiled back, eyes still closed. After a moment he turned his head towards her without lifting it from the sofa and opened his eyes again.

"So. We're safe. We're going to be rescued. Eventually anyway. We're in agreement that once we're out of here, we'll figure this thing out. Right?"

She frowned at him. Where was he going with this?

"Right", she said carefully, noticing a twinkle in his eyes. But maybe it was just the fire reflected in their depths.

"Which means we can now relax and have all the time in the world to talk about the really important things. So. What haven't you told me yet?"

_Ah. No. Nothing to do with the fire._

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Nothing. There is nothing more to say, Jane. He's going to New York. I'm not. End of story."

He shook his head. The gesture looked a little ridiculous when done sideways on top of a sofa.

"Maybe it is the end of the story, but there is a part in between you haven't told me yet and it has something to do with your general behaviour towards me today. So naturally I am intrigued to know what it was. Did he bitch about me?"

"No!"

"Come on, I know he hates me."

"He doesn't … hate you."

"Yes he does. Which is fine. What did he say about me?"

"Nothing."

"Okay, then what did he say about you that made you so nervous around me this morning?"

"Jane, nothing, ok? I was just tired and I knew you'd notice something was wrong and would probably want me to talk about it which I didn't want to, so I tried to avoid you."

"Yeah, that, too. But that's not what I mean and you know it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

He raised a finger.

"High voice."

"Yeah, because you are getting close to annoying me again."

She brought her fist down hard on the sofa which made his head bounce off it for a second. He grinned.

"No. That is a different high voice."

"Jane…"

He chuckled. "Yeah. That one."

He finally raised himself up with a sigh and sat up straight again. Then he looked at her, his expression losing the teasing touch and returning to something more serious for a moment.

"Seriously, Lisbon. There is something beyond general breaking-up-heartache upsetting you. I can tell. And I want to help… I can't say that I like him and I can't say that I'm sorry to see him go, but I am sorry that you are hurting. And if there's anything I can do to help you get through this… then let me."

His speech done, he flopped his head back down on the sofa, worried eyes fixed on her. She reached out a hand, but instead of bringing it down on the fabric again, her fingers brushed a blonde curl from this forehead. She smiled at him.

"Thank you, Jane."

He blinked at her expectantly. "So?"

She laughed.

"You're not letting this go, are you?"

He gave it some thought. "Ah… no."

She sighed and clasped her hands together, letting them sink into her lap and her eyes follow them.

"Fine. It's ridiculous anyway. Which is why I really don't want to talk about it."

"If it distresses you, it's not ridiculous", Jane pointed out.

"It doesn't…" she searched for the right words, seeing in his eyes what she'd seen before outside in the storm. He was waiting patiently for her to find them. Even though he probably could get them out of her head before she could. It was a level of patience and respect she'd never seen him display before. He had pretended to on several occasions, wanting to confirm what he'd thought was going on in her head or to make her feel in control, when in fact he was. This was different. He was different.

"It's not so much distress. It's more like frustration. I'm not saying I want a normal life. My life is fine. But sometimes I wonder…"

She shrugged, trying to gather her thoughts. Jane stayed silent.

"It's the small things. Like… not being able to imagine a future with someone."

"Is that what he tried to make you do?"

She nodded, letting out a frustrated huff between a growl and a sharp laughter.

"Ridiculous, right? We were having a lunch-break at this lake and there was this elder couple on the bench next to us and suddenly he starts talking about how that could be us in 20 years and wants me to imagine it."

"And you couldn't", Jane said, picking himself up from the sofa and suddenly sitting up straight, a curious expression in his eyes. Lisbon still looked down. She didn't catch the moment curiosity turned into surprise and astonishment and then into something bordering on relief. When she lifted her head to look at him, it had gone.

"No. I could not", she said and gave a shrug.

"As I said. Stupid. Ridiculous. Not even worth bothering with. But if I can't even do that, if I can't imagine a nice future with a nice guy for myself, what does that say about me?"

"It only says that you couldn't imagine a nice future for yourself with that particular guy", Jane said, deliberately choosing to omit the word "nice". Lisbon noticed it and raised am eyebrow at him. Jane gave a little shrug.

"Which is a perfectly fine way for your subconscious to tell you that he's simply not the right guy for you."

Lisbon let her head fall against the sofa and sighed.

"Or maybe it's a way for my subconscious to remind me that I am rubbish at these things."

Jane looked into the fire and grinned.

"What? Relationships?"

She poked him fiercely in the ribs. He gave a small yelp, then glowered at her. She laughed, then clarified.

"No. Not relationships. Imagining things."

Jane leaned over to her. "But you are good at it, Lisbon. You practically do it all the time. Every crime-scene you imagine who did what and why. It's the same thing. Well, not quite. But it involves the same principle."

Jane stretched his arms, raising them above his head and gave a small yawn. Then he let his arms fall down, the left one falling to his side, the right one onto the sofa. Lisbon yawned, too and when a shiver ran through her tired muscles, she edged closer to the fire. Well aware that this meant she was a) closer to Jane now and b) that all he needed to do to draw her closer still, was drop the arm from the sofa onto her shoulder.

Maybe it had been his intention.  
Maybe it had been her intention as well.

"It is basically the same thing", he went on. "Only in your job you imagine negative things that happened in the past. You need to practice imagining positive things in the future. Stop detecting. Start daydreaming."

"Daydreaming. Seriously? You want me to practice daydreaming?"

"Yup. It's good for you. Trust me. You'll love it. And you'll be great at it."

"Yeah, because the last attempt was a hoot and worked out so well…" she said with a snort, a little surprised at the hurt in her voice.

Not surprised though, that it triggered the movement of Jane's right arm from the couch to her shoulder. He pulled her close with a sigh and a shake of his head.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. I suspect it wasn't as bad as you think it was, maybe just not what you thought it would be."

She made a half-hearted attempt to draw away from him.

"It wasn't anything, Jane. I couldn't do it."

When it didn't work, she just stayed where she was. It wasn't such a bad place to be after all and now that his arm was around her shoulders, he didn't try anything else. Just let it rest there.

"Oh, I think you could, Lisbon. But whatever you saw scared you."

On the other hand, maybe it was a bad place to be.

She wriggled out of his grasp and pulled herself up to sit on the sofa. Jane looked up at her with clear disappointment. She ignored it and said instead.

"It didn't. I wasn't. Jane, this is ridiculous. I don't do daydreaming. Full stop."

He let his head flop back on the sofa again and looked up at her with a pleading puppy look. His curls were brushing her leg. She cursed herself. So much for bringing some distance between them. She contemplated getting up and start pacing, but her legs and feet made it clear that movement on that scale was out of the question. Jane still had his eyes fixed on her.

This was no good. At this angle he really looked like a lost puppy. She slid down from the sofa to land next to him again, but gave him a glare when he tried to put his arm around her once more. He grinned at her. But kept his limbs in check. For now.

"Try, Lisbon. Close your eyes and try."

"Jane…"

"Humour me."

He gave her a broad grin and winked at her.

"We have to pass the time somehow. It's either this or strip poker…"

Lisbon punched him. He laughed. She growled.

"Fine. I try. There's the bench. There's no one on it. There. Done. End of daydream."

Jane shook his head patiently.

"That's not what you saw. Try again."

"Jane."

He turned his body towards her. "Ok. We do this differently. Close your eyes."

She gave him a worried frown.

"Jane, if you even think about…"

He shook his head.

"Not hypnotising you, Lisbon. I promise. Just… guide you a bit by asking you what you see. Trust me. Close your eyes. What do you see?"

She closed her eyes with an exasperated sigh. Then, after a moment, opened one eye again. Jane laughed at her suspicious glance. When she was sure he wasn't trying anything weird, she closed the eye again. He hadn't asked her to breathe funny or be calm and relaxed, so it should be alright.

She hoped.

"There's the lake. I'm sitting on a bench."

"What's the weather like?"

"What?"

"The weather, Lisbon. Warm? Cold?"

"It's cold. It's winter."

"Is it snowing?"

"No. I don't think so."

He brought his face close to her ear and suddenly whispered in a very low voice.

"What are you wearing?"

"Jane!" Her heard jerked up in alarm and her eyes flew open. Jane laughed and made an apologetic gesture.

"Sorry. Couldn't resist. On the bright side, now you know I didn't hypnotise you."

She settled back down again and closed her eyes. Jane repeated his question, but this time in a normal voice.

"So, what are you wearing?"

"There's… I'm wearing a down jacket. And a thick green scarf. And white boots."

"Where are you?"

"I told you. Sitting on the bench. Jane, this is stupid."

He ignored her protest and fired his questions at her faster and faster, not giving her time to think about her answers.

"What time is it?"

"I think it's morning. There are people passing by with coffee and tea and sandwiches. And there is a man with a briefcase. Yes, I think it's morning."

"Do you have a coffee?"

"Yes. There's a cup in my hand."

"Are you cold?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I… don't know, I'm just not."

"Never mind that. We'll go back to that later. Don't think about your answers. Just tell me what you see. What else? Is there something on the lake?"

"There are ducks on the lake."

"What is the man with the briefcase wearing?"

"A brown suit."

"Is the sun shining?"

"No."

"What am I wearing?"

"A ridiculous christmas jumper with a smiling reindeer…"

She fell silent. Stunned. Eyes still closed.

"Uh…"

"And what am I doing?", he asked, voice soft and quiet, eyes busy reading all the emotions flickering over her face. Her eyes were still closed. He held his breath.

"You're… uh…"

Carefully and slowly he slid his arm back around her, sliding closer, until she was properly in his arms. He knew he needed to start breathing again soon. His heart was hammering in his chest and not just from lack of oxygen. This was more important than she realised. In her mind, in the future she had glimpsed, the future she had been asked to imagine, he was on the bench with her. Not Pike. Which was what had freaked her out. That he was there. Not anyone else. But him. But being the guy on the bench didn't mean he'd get to win — or even play the game. It only meant that he was still a part of her team. Her partner. Her colleague. Not necessarily more. Which he desperately wanted to be.

A frown went over her face, then it dissolved into the sweetest smile he'd ever seen. Somehow, somewhere in the middle of the memory of a daydream she'd come to a decision. The corners of her mouth twitched in amusement. Her eyes were still closed, her voice steady now.

"Actually, you are doing *this*."

"What?", he asked, his voice full of raspy confusion, the word fighting to get out against oxygen trying to get in.

"This", she said, leaning into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder.

"You've got your arms around me. You're the reason why I'm not cold."

He took a deep breath and breathed out a sigh of relief, then let his head roll sideways until it rested against hers and closed his eyes in happy contentment. The warmth of the fire and the warmth of her beside him washing over him, the long day finally taking its toll, Jane felt drowsy. But he wasn't willing to end this just yet. There was one more thing.

Lisbon felt his head rest against hers, felt his arms tighten around her, saw him do the exact same thing in her mind, only he looked different. The beard was gone, his hair was grey instead of blonde and a little shorter. The lines around his eyes were deeper, but he was still handsome and good-looking. Well, except for the sweater he was wearing. She frowned.

"Why are you wearing that ridiculous sweater?", she asked and felt him chuckle beside her.

"Because I know you secretly like it when I'm being silly and childish and Christmas seems a good time to be silly and childish."

"Oh, so it's Christmas time in my daydream?"

"Of course it is. Look at the man with the suit. What colour is his coffee-cup?"

"Red. Oh, and there's a white christmas tree on it."

"See."

"Show-off."

He chuckled softly, moving his head again, until he had managed to press his face into her neck. She reached up a hand and slid it into his hair. He hummed softly against her skin. She scoffed at him.

"Hey, what are you doing in my daydream anyway?"

"You wanted to know why I was wearing that thing."

He raised his eyebrows. It tickled her skin.

"You don't want me in there?" he asked quietly.

She contemplated the question, then let the hand in his hair wander lazily down to caress his neck.

"Would it do any good to ask you to leave?"

A resolute "no" came from somewhere between her neck and her shoulder.

She laughed, then cast her eyes to the fire, her expression getting serious.

"Jane?"

"Hm?"

"How did we get here?"

"This is a tricky one", he mumbled. "Which "here" are you referring to exactly? We seem to be discussing different time-lines plus a weird case going off the rails plus getting lost in a snow-storm. Bit confusing."

She gave him a nudge.

"You know what I mean."

He grinned against her skin.

"Is it important?"

"Of course it is. Don't you think it is?"

"Ok, let me put it this way", he said, then stopped again.

She felt him moving, felt his arms tighten around her, pulling her down with him into the sea of cushions and blankets and warm golden light, shifting them, until they were comfortably curled up in front of the fire. Her head now tucked under his chin, his arms holding her to him, all warm and cosy and comfy and all Jane.

And at the end of a crazy day apparently and unexpectedly all hers.

"What else are we doing, Teresa?"

"Huh?"

"In the daydream. What else are we doing?"

She tried to go back to the bench, to them in twenty years. At the lake, looking at the people around them, watching them, reading them. And laughing at what they came up with.

"We're watching the people pass by. You're pointing out the most ridiculous things about them. And then you tell me how you did it…"

"… and it still makes you laugh even after all this time."

"Yes, it does. And then I smile up at you and you look down at me and..."

The words were no more than whispers on her tongue, rolling off it slowly, accompanied by a wave of comfortable tiredness. She knew she was going to fall asleep soon, but fought against it, not wanting to leave their dream about a beautiful winter morning twenty years from now just yet. Not before seeing, remembering, wishing, dreaming about one more thing.

"... and then", Jane said, fingers brushing softly over her cheek, his voice slow and soft and quiet. "I lean over and I kiss you, like it's the first time. Because with you it's always like the first time."

The last thing her brain registered before sleep finally claimed her, was the soft pressure of his lips on her own.

* * *

_A/N: Feels like I've been writing my heart out with this one. __*drops exhausted into bed*. _And I *so* hope you liked it. One more chapter to go. Next weekend. At the latest. I promise :)


	10. A Touch of Fire Burning Bright

_A/N: Thanks so much for the kind comments on chapter 9! "Bad" news is: This one has rather sneakily drifted quite far into M-rated territory. As in completely. Solid. Genuine. M. So if you don't like that stuff, skip the second half of this. Good news is, this means that this isn't the last chapter after all. I am pretty nervous, because I haven't written anything M-ish in a loooong time. I hope this is like riding a bike ;-) Right. *takes deep breath*. Here we go._

* * *

The world was dark gold. And warm. And smelled like Lisbon. During the last remaining moments of sleep, Jane pushed his nose deeper into the scent, her hair tickling his face. Her sleeping body responded by mirroring his, shifting, pushing, wriggling, until her nose was pressed deeply into his neck, a sigh escaping her lips, perfectly in tune with the one he breathed into her hair. The sound made his mind finally follow his body back into the waking world.

_Five. It's five. There's one more thing that needs to go on that list._

It was the kind of weird first conscious thought, that he suspected only he could come up with.

But it was an important one. He had to add one more item to his list of fears. For the sole reason of crossing it out again.

Because it was gone.  
Finally gone.

This fear was the least serious in terms of actual harm either to life or general sanity. But what it lacked in physical danger, it made up in recurrence. It was something he couldn't escape from, something he had no control over and something that happened almost every morning. It was the moment between sleeping and waking. The moment in which the mind, already conscious, but not in control yet, tried to get its bearings. The moment when dream and reality collided and for a fraction of a second the mind, even his superior one, didn't know which was which and convinced itself 85 percent of the time that the two were reversed.

Often, when he dreamed of red terror and death and loss, his mind would flood his body with relief, while at the same time initiating the bubbling up of laughter at a silly nightmare. Sometimes, when he dreamed of love and laughter and endless summer, his mind would fill his body with warmth, while at the same time forming sweet, grateful words of love he was going to whisper to her upon waking.

When consciousness took finally over and reality was restored, the laughter turned into something that pushed all the air from his lungs or the words of love crumbled to dust on his tongue. Both scenarios ended with a strangled sound of pain and regret and loneliness. Always. And with his hands desperately reaching for her, but only grabbing cold linen. Or nothing at all.

It was the only time he still felt truly broken. And lost. Every time he woke up. Every single time.

Except.

There was warm skin under his hands. Real and soft. Warm breath on his neck. Tickling and caressing him all at once. He pressed his hands experimentally a little harder into the warmth, terrified for a last fraction of a last second that she might still disappear and his hands would touch nothing but cold air.

The only thing she did, though, was to snuggle closer and make a tiny purring sound.

He rubbed his cheek softly across the side of her head, her hair drying the tears that suddenly ran down his face. He pressed a light kiss behind her ear, his lips on her skin preventing the sobbing, choking sound inside him from leaving his mouth. He brushed his thumbs over her skin, trying to distract his hands from giving into the almost irresistible urge to grab her harder. Because he needed to try to breathe, feel, navigate his way through this strange moment of pain and relief and clarity and fear without waking her in the process.

Trying not let her see a crying, shocked mess of a man upon waking.

She might draw very wrong conclusions from that.

Her left hand, until now firmly attached to a fistful of shirt at his waist, let go and wandered over his chest and up towards his neck, until her fingers found something much softer than fabric to slide into. The choking sound finally escaped his lips, when he felt her hand in his hair, unable to keep it in at the soft, warm touch. She frowned, still asleep, but at the distressed sound he made, her hand slid out of his curls and came to rest on his wet cheek. The frown deepened.

She was waking up.

Jane moved his head under her fingers, so he could press a soft kiss into the palm of her hand.

The frown turned first into a smile, then into a murmur.

"Just five more minutes."

The hand travelled from his cheek to his neck. He leaned forward and pressed another kiss into her hair, feeling the hand on his neck tighten its grip, when he whispered softly:

"Go back to sleep, love."

The words, stowed away and unspoken for so long, never expected to be used anywhere else but in a dream, fell from him as easily as happy tears. He knew it was probably way too early to use the one after the comma, but he hoped that she was still drowsy enough not to notice.

Or to freak out. Because that — knowing Teresa Lisbon as well as he did — was still a very real possibility.

She raised her head from its resting place on his neck, let go of his cheek and his shirt and blinked at him. The frown was back. And it intensified. Her body went tense. The frown shifted into the next gear. And in that moment Jane realised both his hands were still under her shirt.

Knowing that mere possibility was going to turn into reality any second now, he quickly disentangled himself from her, got up in one fluid movement and headed for the fireplace. After inspecting it, he grabbed his boots and his jacket. Maybe giving her some space might help.

"Fire's almost out. I'll be back in a minute."

"Jane?"

Hands already busy unlocking the front-door, Jane half turned to her, slowly, carefully, making sure the expression on his face was neutral.

"Yeah?"

She looked at him over the top of the sofa, eyes still sleepy, her cheeks glowing in the last remains of the light from the dying fire. She smiled at him. A warm content smile, followed by warm, content words.

"Be quick. And be careful."

He was so stunned, it took him longer to simply unlock the door than to pick the lock the day before.

A biting scream of cold wind wheezed into the cabin when he finally opened the door. The storm was raging on outside and Lisbon could see that Jane needed all his strength to get out. A few inches of snow had already advanced on the front steps of the cabin and were blocking the door. The wind lashed out against the remaining small flames in the fireplace, pushing them into the black remains of the logs, that had kept them warm during the evening and the night.

What time was it anyway?

Lisbon looked at her watch. 4:30 AM.

The last time she had checked, it had read 4:40 PM.

She'd been asleep for twelve hours.

"Shit."

She reached for the radio, but it wasn't where she'd left it. Looking around, she finally spotted it on the floor between two cushions, close to the space where Jane's head had been. So he hadn't been asleep for 12 hours. And kept an eye and ear on the radio. And obviously nothing had happened so far.

Despite the early hour and the off-chance of anyone getting this, she repeated their SOS. No answer came. She put the radio on the floor and let herself sink back into the sea of cushions and blankets, stretching her arms and legs, arching her back, feeling muscles sigh in contentment and relaxation. With a big yawn, she rolled onto her side to watch the dying fire, grabbing the nearest pillow and pushing it under her head.

It smelled like Jane.

She watched the flames flicker, getting smaller and smaller, the darkness now clawing its way back into the room, shadows moving closer, the red glow barely able to defend the last patches of light against the darkness.

She stared at it, at the ebb and flow of darkness and light, thoughts drifting in and out of her mind, until there were two that decided to stay.

What the hell was she doing? And why wasn't she freaking out? Jane had clearly expected her to freak out and she was 100 percent with him on that one. She should be freaking out. She should feel anything but relaxed and content for a hell of a number of reasons. Starting with the most practical one — being stranded on a mountain in the middle of a snow-storm —, followed by the most obvious one — she had just broken up with her boyfriend —, and ending with the most familiar one — being in danger of letting Jane into her head and her heart.

Although, she had to admit, the damage was probably finally done on that front.  
On both counts.

And it was her own doing. She had invited him into her daydream, by asking him about the sweater. And she had pulled his hands back under her shirt when she'd woken sometime in the night, because… well, she wanted them there. Needed them there. Needed him. Close. Closer.

"Oh god, here we go."

She closed her eyes, ready to take on the familiar panic and the fear and the doubt and the million reasons why this was still the worst idea ever. _Bring them on, brain, bring them on,_ she thought defiantly.

_"Because you never *had* to let him get too close, did you? You wanted him when you couldn't have him and now that you could, you have a million reasons why you won't."_

Instead of fear, panic and a million reasons, her brain chose to replay Marcus's voice in her head. It was a pretty efficient brain, after all.

She was stunned. Had he been right about this, after all? Had she chosen Jane, because she knew he was… well, Jane? Too damaged, too secretive, too manipulative, too controlling, too… much? So that she knew, she always had a million fire exits to escape through, when she came too close to the fire? Too close to getting burned? Too close. Full stop? And had she chosen Pike as her new fire exit, because Jane had slowly and softly started to close all the old and familiar ones? Being easy around her, telling her about his plans, trying to fit in, giving her space, asking her to come with him and not manipulating her into changing her mind when she refused. He had even, after a while, accepted that Marcus was part of her life now. Too possessive? Another fire exit closing with a silent thud.

She pushed her nose into the pillow, inhaling deeply. Jane's scent was all around her.

The door flew open and he staggered back in, arms loaded with firewood, using his left foot to kick the door shut. She watched him in silence, as he put the logs down and coaxed the fire into motion again. The shadows retreated. She watched him shed his boots and jacket, rubbing his hands and holding out his palms towards the fire to get them warm again. Watched the reflection of the fire dance in his eyes.

Watched him. Calmly.

No, she was definitely not freaked out. She did feel a little uneasy now, but that was down to guilt. Directed at her behaviour towards Marcus. Who had been good to her. But who had left her heart as fast as he had entered it. For which she was sorry, because she hated him to think she'd just used him. She had never intended to do that. Aside from that there was no panic. No fear. And the million reasons why this was a bad idea had suddenly dwindled down to just two. Two they could talk about. Work on. Deal with. Maybe. She closed her eyes. Both melted into an image. A bench. A winter morning. Ducks on a lake. She smiled. Jane was right. Daydreaming was a brilliant thing.

"That should do it for a while", he said, tossing one more log onto the fire.

"I tried the radio while you were out", Lisbon replied. "Still no luck."

"Even if we don't get anyone on the radio, I'm sure at first light they'll start looking for us anyway. Hopefully when they find the car, they will start checking the surrounding area. They'll find us. Eventually. Don't worry."

She smiled up at him.

"It's nice here. I'm not worried."

He stood in front of the fire, looking down at her, marvelling at how calm she was. He'd expected her to pace the room, hell, he'd expected her to *leave* the room. He'd expected arguments, flight, embarrassment, denial, guilt, awkwardness, but never this. Her still stretched out in front of the fire, looking up at him with that big smile that she so rarely let anyone see.

"I am getting cold, though."

She reached out a hand towards him.

"Get back down here."

And — not in a million years — had he expected this.

Not even trying to hide the huge grin on his face, he did as she asked and slid down onto the floor next to her.

"Come here then", he whispered, trailing a coaxing hand softly from her shoulder down her arm, tugging at her shirt-sleeve, until she scooted closer.

He fished a blanket out from beneath two sofa cushions and wrapped both the blanket and his arms around her. She suddenly gave a soft laugh, reached out a hand and ruffled his hair. A few renegade snowflakes, that had settled there, fell out of his curls and melted away before they even hit his shirt. Once she was done clearing the snow out of his hair, she let her hand trail down behind his ear and then back to his cheek. The smile was still on her face, her emerald eyes shining, reflections of firelight and love and something he didn't even dare to think about dancing in them. He couldn't stop looking at her. And with something close to shock he realised there was no reason anymore, no reason at all, why he had to. Slowly she moved her hand down his neck and onto his chest, resting it above his heart. Just as he was about to say something very soppy, very cheesy and probably very foolish, she suddenly looked away, as though she'd just remembered something. Her cheeks started to redden and her body was going so tense, it felt like he was hugging a tree all over sudden.

Just in case she was really switching into angry-little-princess mode, he eased his grip on her, pulling his arms out from under the blanket and just letting them fall lightly on top of it. Giving her space. But not pulling away. Yet.

"Jane?" she said in a small, but slightly irritated voice.

"Yes?"

"Last night… there's something…" she looked embarrassed now. Squirmed a little in his grasp. But was not freaked out. Yet.

"What about last night?" he asked carefully. The second hand joined the first above his heart. She looked at them with a serious and slightly panicky expression. And with a frown. Like she didn't even know how they had gotten to be there in the first place. Even though she seemed surprised at the sight, he hoped she liked it nevertheless. She squirmed a little more. He drew his arms back just a little more. Still not letting go, though.

"Jane, did you... kiss me last night?"

He looked at her, trying to figure out what the right answer was and how to deliver it. This was important. He could not mess this up and… and then he noticed. And felt laughter building up inside of him.

Oh, she was good. She'd almost had him there. Almost. But that light movement of her fingers, that light pressure of her palms over his heart had given her away.

When she looked up at him again, eyes still wide and confused, he gave her an offended look and pulled away from her.

"You know, men in general don't really appreciate it, when their heroic efforts at providing comfort and romance lead to snoring", he grumbled.

Knowing that he'd called her bluff, she grinned at him, scooting forwards, until he had no choice but to let her back into his embrace and, once she had settled down against him once more, patted his chest lightly.

"I'm truly sorry. I can only imagine how horrifying that experience must have been — especially for a pro like you. How can I make it up to you?"

He gave a dramatic sigh. "It's ok. No need to. I can handle it. Honestly. Don't worry about it."

She tilted her head, the index finger of her right hand now tapping his chest, as if she was contemplating an idea. Then her face lit up.

"Hey, I'm awake now, so, why don't you try again? You've got my full attention. I promise. No snoring this time."

He raised his eyebrows at her, thinking it over. Then a slightly bored expression settled on his face and he shook his head and he said with a loud sigh of regret.

"Nah… thanks… but the moment's gone…"

She slapped his chest then and squealed when his hands were suddenly back under the blanket, back under her shirt and — no surprise there, really — right on the most ticklish spots on her sides.

She managed a slightly squeaky "Jane!" between two fits of giggles. At which he ceased his attack and moved his hands a little lower, settling them on her waist, then sliding them to the small of her back, a touch so familiar and new all at once it made her draw in her breath. She let her head come to rest in the crook of his neck and slid one hand back up into his hair. It felt already like it belonged there. After a moment Jane said:

"Speaking of moments. You're in a cuddly mood right now. Which is highly unusual, because you don't do that kind of thing. You think it's silly. Soppy. Not your cup of tea. But you do seem to be enjoying this rather a lot. Which I am quite happy about, I might add."

He was right. She never did this. She did sex. Occasionally. And enjoyed that. Occasionally. But once that was over, she was usually glad if she had a reason to leave, to not have to fall asleep with someone's arms around her, suffocating her, trapping her, emotionally and physically. And if she had to stay, she was usually the first one up and in the shower. No cuddling. No snuggling. Just getting up and getting on with it. Had done so with Marcus as well. Every morning making sure she was out of bed before he woke. Never once had she been the one to coax anyone back into bed simply for an embrace and cuddle. Until today.

Ignoring her instincts that always told her to feign indignity at brazen statements like that from him, she just chose to shrug.

"I know. I usually hate it. All this rom-com, cheesy, over-romantic suffocating, silly, embarrassing stuff, that… only serves to make you late for work. Or miss the last bus."

Jane laughed softly, trailing his fingers up and down her sides, then lifting one hand out from under her shirt, to stroke her hair.

"I sense you have a rather strong opinion on the matter."

"I do. I mean. I know as a woman I'm not meant to say that, but I just don't… like it. Okay? It makes me feel… trapped. Suffocating. And... I don't know. I just think it's weird and cheesy and doesn't serve any purpose."

"It feels good", Jane mumbled against her neck, pressing a soft kiss onto her skin.

She closed her eyes.

"No, it doesn't", she managed after a moment.

"No?"

The hand on the small of her back started moving again. Softly. Slowly. Up and down. Up and down.

"N... no."

He chuckled against her neck.

"Greg. Remember Greg?"

"Vaguely", Jane grumbled, the hand in her hair now on her neck, softly stroking, caressing, teasing.

"He loved to cuddle. Snuggle up. But the only thing he managed to do was tickle me. I felt like dying, but I didn't dare to laugh, because it would have been rude and unromantic and …"

"Wheel clamp."

"What?"

"Marcus. I bet he's a wheel-clamp-cuddler."

"Jane!"

He laughed softly, eyes closed, such contentment on his face, that it made her eyes well up with tears. She should scold him for bringing up Pike, but the only thing she really wanted to do, was to touch his face. So she did. He pressed his cheek into the palm of her hand.

"So is he? Someone who is holding on too tight for too long?"

Before she could stop herself, she blurted out. "Like he is making an arrest."

Jane laughed. Lisbon felt a little guilty at her words. But Jane's laugh had been real and warm and happy and that was worth it. She wanted to hear him laugh like that again. Preferably every day.

"Not his fault though", Jane said. "It's almost an art-form. Far harder to accomplish or get right than sex. Sex is easy. That's just mechanics. This…"

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in, shifting them both, until she was perfectly curled up in his embrace, arms holding her, fingers skimming lightly over fabric and skin, lips softly, ever so softly brushing her forehead, her cheek, her nose, voice nothing more than a whisper.

"… this is far more intimate and requires a far more greater level of trust. Hence the claustrophobia issues when it's not…"

She wrapped her own arms around his waist, then pushed her hands beneath his shirt, moving them across his back, watching him draw in a shocked breath at the touch, his train of thought derailing right in front of her eyes.

Now that was a first.

"And let me guess, of course you are skilled at it", she said teasingly, moving her hands slowly from his back to his chest, feeling his heart beat faster, this breath quickening. His own hands on her body had stilled. He managed to shake his head though after a moment.

"That's my point. Has nothing to do with skills. Has to do with knowing and trusting and feeling and being in synch."

"Hm", Lisbon said with a hum. "I'm not really sure I'm getting this."

Back in control now, he grinned at her. "I probably need to demonstrate this to get my point across."

She grinned back. "Then by all means. Do. Demonstrate."

He tightened his arms around her. Hard. "Hold on too tight and you trigger claustrophobia." He let go again, until she could barely feel his touch, her body reacting instantly to the loss by shifting closer to him. "Don't hold on tight enough and you lose contact."

His hands moved up and down her sides over her shirt. She closed her eyes, wanting, needing him to do this on her skin, not her shirt. He chuckled, reading her thoughts.

"Be too slow and timid and impatience is going to spoil the mood…"

Hands now sliding under her shirt, making her shiver, eliciting the slightest of moans from her, when they strayed just a little from their previous path, brushing the sides of her breasts almost accidentally, then trailing leisurely down to her stomach and around to her back, out of her shirt and over her jeans, lower and lower, tightening teasingly around her soft curves for a moment, before they moved back up under her shirt.

"… be too bold and you find yourself in more… dangerous territory."

"Oh, I don't know, I think I like that kind of territory", she heard herself say. He chuckled, his voice close to her ear, a low, happy rumble.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

_Cheeky bastard._

"What about…", she said with a curious frown, sliding both her hands into his hair now, lightly scratching his scalp until he closed his eyes. When he sighed happily, she suddenly rolled her hips against him and drew his head down, until their foreheads were touching. Jane let out a gasp.

"… kissing? What territory does that belong to?"

"Ah", he said, his hands now restless under her shirt, leaving hot trails on her skin, warmth turning to heat, wherever he touched her. He was shivering against her, eyes closed, breath coming hard and fast.

"That belongs right _here_."

"I thought the moment was gone?" She had aimed for sweet smugness, but her own voice now sounded as strained and breathless as his. Her hands were roaming over his chest, his stomach, until her fingers teasingly trailed along the waistband of his jeans.

"hm… think it's back."

"Is it?"

Her hands were stroking his back. Up and down and then her fingers slipped inside the waistband of his jeans, not far, but far enough that she could feel him slowly losing control.

"Hh… mmm."

A shiver ran through him, then he brought his body back under his command and slid his hands determinately into her hair on either side of her face. She closed her eyes, feeling his nose nudge hers softly, lovingly, a question and a plea and a confession. So much in a gesture so simple. He was still now, waiting, she realised for her answer. She nudged his nose back and then, finally, slowly, softly his lips moved against hers, all soft pressure and light touch at first, then when he felt her make a small sound in the back of her throat, more insistent, tongue flicking over her lower lip, then pushing slowly into her mouth. It occurred to her that this might be the moment to kiss him back. The sound he made when she did, made her mind go blank for a moment. The thing he did with his tongue just after that, made it stay that way a while longer.

It also made her roll her hips against him, almost involuntarily, feeling him smile into the kiss before deepening it and then, just when it threatened to become too hot and too much too fast, he eased them into a slower pace, his tongue caressing hers softly, lips moving slower, almost lazily, a kiss, she thought, like a sunny Sunday morning spent cuddling in bed.

Before she could help it, she started to giggle.

Jane pulled back and blinked at her through hazy, confused eyes.

"Sorry…"

"Ok, first you fall asleep on me and now you are laughing at me", he said offended.

"That's it. No more kissing you."

The giggle turned into something between a sob and a sigh and a hiccup and it was so sweet, to see her struggle with it, he just couldn't keep up the offended expression on his face. Especially now, that she was reaching up with both hands, cupping his face lovingly, eyes bright and warm and all he ever wanted to look at for the rest of his life. He smiled at her, then leaned back in, kissing the top of her nose, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth, softly, lightly, nudging her nose again, sliding his cheek against hers, breaths mingling, soft but fast, then his lips were back on hers and she sighed into his mouth, as he claimed hers passionately, only retreating for as long as it took him to get her out of her shirt, so his hands could now roam freely. He moaned at the almost unrestricted access to her soft skin, touching, caressing, skimming over every inch of her, fingers slowly closing in on the clasp of her bra.

Kissing had never felt like this. Hot and hard and slow and soft at the same time, not so much a touch, a movement anymore, but pure feeling, pure joy cruising through her veins, pure light flowing through her, all white and bright and all because of him. But she needed more. Now that she'd tasted him, she needed more of him. Starting with the feeling of his skin against hers. She tugged on his shirt, her brain processing with the last of its remaining power how lucky she was that they were doing this now and not three years ago.

In this state of mind, she would never have been able to open two complete rows of buttons.

He moved into a half sitting position, sliding his left arm first out of the shirt and then around her, to hold her against him, not willing to part for even a second. Then he pulled the shirt over his head.

"Makes you glad the vest is gone, huh?" he breathed against her ear, once he was free, pressing a hot kiss just beneath it, that made her gasp again.

"I… liked the vest… I kind of miss it", she managed after a moment. Then he had wriggled out of the other shirt-sleeve and his right hand joined the left on her back and he pulled her close. Skin finally touched skin, no more fabric between them.

How on earth had he managed to get her bra off, without her…

He grinned against the soft curve of her left breast and she was about to say something, but then his lips moved over her skin and her words turned into soft moans as Jane kissed his way almost leisurely across and down her body, leaving trails of burning desire behind. Soon, the rest of her clothes were gone, too. How exactly she couldn't remember. Part of her hormone induced amnesia might have had something to do with what his hands were doing to her now. Hot pleasure streamed through her veins, her hands grabbing at anything they could reach for support, her back arching up, moans almost turning into sobs.

"Jane… oh god…"

She knew she should probably start working on getting him naked as well, but her brain had no idea how to work a belt. Or a zipper. It also wasn't really sure where both were located right now. And then it just finally surrendered, when he replaced his fingers with his mouth, his curls brushing against the insides of her thighs, his hands holding her hips in place, while her body screamed for release, closer and closer until his tongue flicked against just the right spot and the scream her body had insisted upon, left her mouth.

He'd continued to kiss and caress her until her body had stopped shaking, loving every second of it, her almost surprised scream telling him beyond the shadow of a doubt that no one else had ever made her feel even close to this before. He felt like going back to all the Pikes and Gregs and telling them they hadn't deserved her anyway, if they had only been able to have sex with her and not making love to her. Like she deserved. After a while he moved back up her body slowly, placing kisses on every bit of skin he passed, making her sigh with content pleasure and push both hands deep into his hair, when he flicked his tongue around the dark peak of one breast, while this fingers caressed the other. She mumbled something incoherent, but kept her eyes closed. He had reached her neck now, kissing her rapidly thumping pulse, then her flushed cheeks. Still shaking hands reached around his neck and pulled him to her, her lips claiming his, her tongue darting into his mouth, a moan escaping her, when she tasted herself on him. She deepened the kiss, all insistent and hot and demanding and he let her take control, let her flip them, so she was on top now, still kissing him, hands planted firmly on his chest, hips rolling against him, eliciting a moan from him, every time she did so. Then her mouth moved from his lips to his neck, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to it, that turned his muscles into liquid, his skin into fire. He moved his head, trying to capture her mouth again, but misjudged and landed in her neck instead. Not wanting to waste any opportunity, he gave her neck a short lick of his tongue, which made her push against him more insistently.

"Jane… you… now"

It sounded very much like begging. He was about to say something rather cheeky, when her hands had finally managed to open his belt buckle and his jeans and pushed inside. He almost cried out at the intensity of her touch, no amount of body control or biofeedback preventing his hips from jerking violently, the world turning bright and hot and in on itself until all that was left, was the incredibly gentle brush of her fingers against him, stroking softly, curling around him and... And then his memory faulted on him as well. Or maybe he had blacked out for a moment. But either way, his clothes were finally gone. Before she could touch him again, though, he had pulled her roughly up to him, flipping them again, needing to be in control once more, not because he didn't trust her, but because he didn't trust himself. After all, it had been a while and he was not sure how long he could make this last at the pace she was trying to go. She made another noise, part protest, part impatience, part pure _want_, hands reaching for him in wild desire and finally wrapping her legs around him.

He thrust his hips forward hard, then let the rest of his body follow, burying himself deep inside her, reaching for her hands, lacing his fingers through hers, stretching to touch his forehead to hers, panting hard, his body screaming at him to move. Now. Hard. And fast. But he stayed still, until she opened her eyes and looked at him.

He needed her to _see_.

Her eyes were dark with desire and feeling and something close to shock on seeing the amount of emotion in his own.

He needed her to _hear_.

"I love you", he whispered softly.

He needed her to _feel_.

He started moving. Slowly. Deep, but slow strokes. Making her gasp with every single one and every so often capturing a moan in an equally slow and deep kiss. He kept his eyes open as long as he could, but then, when her breath came in short panting sobs, when her hips jerked against his own, when her hands pulled him down for a long, very long and very hard kiss, when she urged him on to go faster, deeper and her fingers trailed down his back, hot and burning, he closed his eyes.

And then every thought was gone and all was pleasure and heat and light and love. And it was all too much. He almost sobbed, needing to let go, but suddenly afraid to, unaccustomed to feeling anything like this for so long, his body and soul were close to short-circuiting at the emotional overload. But none of those feelings he was able to put into words. Because all words were wiped from his mind. Simply gone. Except for one. The only really important one. Her name.

"Lis…bon…"

He felt a shaking hand on his face, another one around his arm, holding on tight. Felt first her lips brushing softly against his neck, then her breath, hard and loud and fast.

"…with me…" she panted through clenched teeth. "I…right...here…love…"

The rest of the sentence drowned in the intense pleasure of their combined release. And both their moans and cries and muffled gasps following it until the only sounds left in the room were the crackling of the fire and the wind howling into the approaching dawn. At least for a while.

* * *

_A/N: The fact that they somehow just couldn't keep their hands off each other means that I get to write another chapter. Which is unexpected. But nice. Because somehow I don't want this story to end just yet._


	11. Private Property of Teresa Lisbon

_A/N: Wow. Thank you. So so much. For all the lovely reviews. Means so, so much. You have no idea. Just a short warning: This one picks up where the last one ended, so we're still drifting in and out of M-rated-territory for a paragraph or two. Or three… still slightly shocked at what I have unleashed here. But it does serve a purpose plot-wise, so… I regret nothing ;-)_

* * *

Slowly, very slowly the world around her returned. Not to normal, though, because, honestly, how could *anything* ever be normal again after *that*. Reluctantly Lisbon eased herself back into reality, her senses registering that the wind was still howling outside, the fire was still keeping the shadows at bay and the radio was still giving off little happy static snores every once in a while.

Her senses also registered that Jane was still lying on top of her.

His face was buried in the side of her neck, his breathing, now slow and soft, gently caressing her skin, while his damp hair was brushing her cheek. She trailed her fingers over the nape of his neck, let them softly venture out towards his shoulders to draw exploratory patterns on every inch of skin she had missed touching in the heat of the moment. She was surprised when she found a scar just beneath his right shoulder-blade. She didn't linger there, wanting to save the question that would inevitably be attached to her touch for another time. She moved on to softer skin at the nape of his neck, then let her fingers drift down, following the path of his spine. When she felt muscles starting to move beneath her fingers, she brought her hands back to his shoulders and slid her arms around him to keep him from getting up. He settled his body back against her with a sigh.

"Not too heavy?", he asked quietly, his voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper somewhere below her ear. She pushed a hand into his hair, and, not trusting her own voice yet, just shook her head. Lisbon felt him smile against her skin and could, without knowing how, tell that he was filing something away in his memory palace. Probably the discovery that she actually liked this. His full weight pressing down on her. In a strictly physical sense. Until now the words "Jane" and "weight" had equaled burden, responsibility, fear, despair, even loss. It was nice to change that association to something far more pleasurable. Or maybe that was, what he was filing away. The almost indescribable, pleasurable stuff they had done before. She wondered where he'd put it and what it looked like. Well, she actually had a good idea, what it *looked* like. All of it. She blushed and was glad his eyes were closed. Though she suspected, by the way his lips twitched against her skin, he'd noticed anyway.

She glanced up at the boarded up windows, trying to see if the first light of day was already sneaking in. But it was still dark.

Good.

It meant no one would be looking for them just yet. For which she was suddenly grateful, because she really needed a little more time to process all of this.

He'd said it. He'd actually said it. And the way he'd looked at her, the way it had sounded, the way it had_ felt_, there was no doubt in her mind or heart. He'd meant it. She closed her eyes again, the words echoing in her mind and making her heart beat faster and her stomach tighten in that strange uncomfortable but excitingly good way. He said he loved her. But he still had to hear her say it. Which she found she really wanted to, but how could anything she'd say or do compare to his mind-blowing, earth-shattering admission of love? It all sounded too small, too insignificant, too plain in her head.

She definitely needed more time to process this.

She cast her glance around the room and felt the heat in her cheeks rise again.

Since she couldn't spot a single item of clothing in the immediate vicinity, she also probably needed quite some time to get dressed again as well.

She sincerely hoped an avalanche had blocked the pass.

She focused her attention back on Jane, when he suddenly drew in a deep breath, held it for a second and let it out against her neck in one long, very long sigh. It sounded like he was parting with something that had been inside of him for a long time.

It also sounded suspiciously like relief. She gave a snort and tapped his shoulder.

"Relieved it's over, are we?"

Jane laughed lightly against her neck, before lifting his head and shifting a little, so he could look at her. His eyes were dancing, bright and full of joy and something she'd never seen in them before. But lingering somewhere close was something serious that drifted in and out of his gaze too fast for her to catch what it was.

"No. But relieved that there isn't a Lisbon-shaped hole in that door, after what we've just did."

He kissed her shoulder.

"Relieved, very relieved, that I haven't lost you after all, which I was very afraid I had and not just because of Pike."

He kissed her neck.

"And — while we're on the subject — relieved, that from now on, it's me and no one else who gets to do this…"

He kissed her lips.

The kiss was long and soft and slow and deep and it sent a wave of heat from her heart to the rest of her body. He drew back slowly and grinned at her sheepishly.

"And also, I have to admit, relieved that I didn't encounter any… ah, unforeseen complications after a decade of inactivity."

"Performance anxiety? You? Really?"

She laughed and ruffled his hair affectionately, deciding to concentrate on that particular item on his list of reliefs and postpone thinking about the more serious ones. For now all she wanted, was to stay in this bubble of warmth and lightness for as long as possible. Teasing seemed the best way to accomplish that and he seemed to agree — by making an offended noise.

"No. Course not. Just slightly concerned — wrongly I might add — that I could be a tiny bit out of practice."

"Hm", she replied sceptically and pulled his head down for another kiss. Far too soon he pulled back to frown at her.

"Ok, what exactly do you mean by "hm"?"

"Oh, nothing…", Lisbon said with an innocent smile, moving her hands softly down from behind his ears, along his jaw-line until they met at his chin. She brushed her thumbs over his lips. When she felt his body reacting to her touch, feeling, seeing him struggle to keep his cool and control and being close, so very close to failing on both counts, it baffled her and she almost dropped the teasing tone and the innocent smile.

Patrick Jane never lost control.

She'd always assumed that rule applied to sex as well, thought, even feared, that in this kind of scenario his control would actually be absolute. And terrifyingly so. She was always afraid to imagine what a man who could read, manipulate and control people with nothing more than a gesture and a few words from across a room, could actually do to you, _make_ you do — willingly and without thinking twice — in that kind of intimate moment. All the while in control, only pretending to _want_, to _feel_, playing you, tricking you and — and even if you suspected he did all those things — making you not give a damn about it. And even if it wrecked your heart and your life, somehow getting you to regret none of it in the end. In short: The complete Jane-package.

"Just… thinking…"

She slid a foot experimentally along a calf, trailed a hand along his back, lower and lower, slowly, teasingly, until she felt his breath go faster, brush harder against her thumb which was still pressed to his lips. When her hand on his lower back gripped him tighter and she rolled her hips against him, once, hard, he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers, sucking in a sharp breath.

Definitely losing control. And seemingly not bothered about it at all.

Losing control because of her. She could do this to him. It was all sort of things. Unexpected, baffling, humbling, amazing, frightening, thrilling, comforting, heart-warming and — on a more practical and less intense level of thought: Quite neat.

He chose this moment to flick his tongue against her thumb and to brush a hand against her thigh.

"Thinking what?", he asked, the light tease in her previous words now reverberating in his. He moved and brought his lips back to her neck.

"That a little more practice might not go amiss", she teased, changing the angle of her head with a sigh to give him better access. He hummed in agreement, then kissed her again.

"Good thought. Lots of practice." he mumbled against her lips, then trailed his down her neck and her collarbone, savouring every second, every touch, every scent and every tiny sound of pleasure she made.

"Right now? Again? Seriously?", she asked already more than a little breathless.

"Got anything better to do?"

A moan escaped from her mouth when his lips reached her breasts. She slid her fingers into his hair. He slipped his fingers into her. She gasped.

"No, nothing… important… comes… to mind at the moment."

"Good."

"Hm."

"Hm, what?"

"Hm, good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Sure?"

"Quite… Don't… stop."

"Wasn't planning to. You said I needed practice. So. I'm practicing."

" . . . !"

"What?"

His voice sounded way too cheerful and superior and controlled again. Time to fix that. One word, she only had to find one word somewhere between the intense pleasure and the equally intense want and all the bright, burning heat inside…

That one.

"… _inside_…"

She could hear the words on his tongue turning into a strangled moan along with the cheeky confidence they were supposed to carry. One swift move and he was inside her and she gasped in surprise when the first thrust almost pushed her over the edge. He felt so good. So incredibly good. He drowned her moans in a long, deep kiss, then leaned his forehead back against hers and fell into an easy, almost leisurely rhythm, trying to slow them down. Make this last.

"Still think I need… practice?"

"Ask me… again… later"

"You seriously need time to think about this? This is insulting…", he complained. It sounded so very Jane, even in the middle of all this, that it made her laugh.

She cupped his face lovingly, opening her eyes, only to see his closing tightly. After an incredibly amazing while, she felt his hands reach for hers, heard him pant harder, felt muscles straining beneath skin. When he laced slightly shaking fingers through hers, she took control, started to meet his thrusts harder, changing their rhythm, the pleasure building up, racing through every fibre of her body, needing release.

_Now. Oh god._

Throwing her head back, she started moaning his name in the golden light and heat of the fire, again and again until the world finally exploded once more in heat and pleasure and bright light.

Jane reached out a shaking hand to stroke her hot, flushed cheek. Her eyes were closed and she was still panting heavily, but eventually she turned her head into his touch and smiled. He wrapped his arms around her and shifted both their bodies so she was now resting on top of him. It felt incredible having her there, relaxed, sated, a little sleepy and beautiful. So very beautiful. He knew he didn't deserve it. Knew that part of him, the part that had kept him going for so many years by managing not to care about anything, including himself, feared this. This was a final game-changer. No more playing with house-money, all cards on the table and none up his sleeve, except one he would never part with — the queen of hearts. Lisbon's arms went around his waist. He closed his eyes. He had never thought he'd want this ever again. To care. To feel. And subsequently to live. Truly live. And he certainly never expected to be given a chance to do so. He kissed the top of her head.

"So?"

"So what?"

"You told me to ask you later."

She pushed her nose into his chest, probably to hide the fact that she was blushing again.

"As if you needed an answer…"

"Well…", he mused, stroking her back leisurely. "I suppose not. After all, they say it's like riding a bike. Which it is not. Obviously."

She crossed her arms on top of his chest, let her chin rest on her wrists, tilted her head slightly and looked at him with wide, shining eyes. Her cheeks were still flushed, her hair ran freely over her shoulders. He swallowed hard. No, he didn't deserve this. But he knew he would never ever settle for anything else. Never settle for anyone other than her. He knew his expression had probably turned too serious, when a slight shadow fell over her face. He grinned.

"Riding a bike isn't half as much fun as this. But to return to the main subject, even though I don't really need practice, I do admit there is always room for improvement, so I hope we can do this again soon."

The shadow was replaced by a bright smile. She raised a curious eyebrow at him.

"Oh, there is?"

"Most definitely."

She tapped a finger against his chest. "Don't make promises you can't keep, mister. Without meaning to boost your already impressive ego any further, I have to admit, that was quite… amazing."

He crossed his hands behind his head with a very smug, very satisfied grin on his face. Lisbon groaned.

"I shouldn't have said that, I know I'm going to regret saying that…"

He laughed. But she sensed there was something strained in it. It made her say something else she probably shouldn't have.

"Honestly. No need to worry. I really couldn't tell that you haven't done this in a while."

He stopped laughing. Unlocked his hands from behind his head and propped himself up on his elbows. He looked down at her hands on his chest, avoiding her eyes. His voice was very quiet, strained, like his laugh had been.

"Yes, you could."

He fell silent, lay back again and closed his eyes, shadows and reflections of golden light dancing across his face. She opened her mouth to protest, a little unsure why, what had begun as teasing, now suddenly turned serious. And then his earlier words hit home and she remembered how he'd said her name before, with an emotion so deep she had no idea at the time what it actually was, only knew instinctively he needed her to be with him in that moment.

Now however, she understood. Her chest tightened almost painfully. She put her arms around his neck and pulled herself up his chest, until her forehead was touching his.

"Jane…"

No one had touched him like this. In over a decade. It must have been a little overwhelming, even for Patrick Jane. And probably a little frightening. Especially for Patrick Jane. He probably never expected to feel like this ever again. To be touched like that ever again.

_Like she had done._

She moved her fingers softly up and down his neck. Pressed her forehead a little more against his.

"Hey…"

_Was doing._

Her nose touched his.

_Would always be doing._

Gave it a soft nudge.

_With love._

"Look at me."

Another nudge, soft, but a little more insistent.

"Patrick."

He opened his eyes. She watched pain, doubt and fear flickering in their depths. She brushed a renegade curl from his forehead, her gaze finding his, green locking into blue.

"I love you."

His eyes turned from dark winter sky to shimmering bright ocean blue. Whatever little of the old darkness had still resided in them vanished along with the flickering doubt. What remained was pure blue, shining with love and a hint of tears. Lisbon felt her own eyes mist up at the change in him and when finally a few tears fell from his eyes and a sniffly sound escaped her throat, she nudged his nose again and they both started to laugh.

"So what now?" she asked, when she finally caught her breath again. She was not sure what exactly her question was referring to.

"Food", he decided and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "You're starving and so am I."

He had a point there. Even without considering recent physical activities, it had been too long since she'd eaten anything.

"Also", Jane pointed out rather reluctantly. "We might want to get dressed again." He gestured towards the door. "Just in case."

She kissed the tip of his nose and rolled off of him with a sigh. To distract herself from the immediate feeling of loss, she got up quickly and started looking around for her clothes. Jane pointed towards the second sofa. Lisbon frowned and looked at him.

"How did you…"

He grinned up at her, evidently quite pleased with himself. She made a face.

"Never mind."

He folded his hands again behind his head with a content sigh, clearly enjoying the sight of her getting dressed.

Until she threw a shirt at his face.

A few minutes later and he stood in front of her, fully dressed and slowly, very slowly pulling up the zipper on her now dry and comfortably warm fleece-jacket.

"There", he said quietly with a small sigh. "All done. Shame, really."

She gave him a half-serious look, even though she silently agreed. But her stomach didn't and made it clear with an angry rumble that any further delay in providing food was unacceptable. No matter how pleasurable that delay might be.

The first gloomy light of day seeped into the room, for which Jane was rather grateful. He knew he'd find his way around in the dark, having memorised the layout of the kitchen and the whereabouts of food, drink and important appliances the day before. But he was glad nevertheless that he didn't have to face the challenge of fixing breakfast basically blindfolded. The kitchen was a mix of rustic design and modern equipment. A massive beam, not carved wood, but actually a completely natural looking massive log of a tree — bark and all — ran from above the door along the room and disappeared into a stone wall above an old-fashioned looking stove. Which was running on gas and not electricity.

He could hear Lisbon trying the radio again in the other room and smiled. From her tone of voice he could clearly tell her heart wasn't in it. He wondered how long it would take to heat up a certain room on the first floor. It was a shame that he hadn't thought to light a fire in the snug little fireplace in the bedroom last night, but it had seemed impractical at the time. Now however…

"Still no luck."

Lisbon put the radio down on the counter in the middle of the room and leaned against it.

"Shame."

"Hm. Did you find anything to eat?"

She looked around the room, then hopped on the counter, when she couldn't find any other available furniture to sit on. Clearly she expected him to fix breakfast. Or knew that he'd insist upon doing it anyway. He decided it was both.

"Give me ten minutes", he said with a grin and lit a match. With a whoosh, a bright blue gas flame appeared. "But first things first", he said and put the kettle on.

He'd already searched the kitchen last night when she was asleep and had spent half an hour, after lying back down next to her, contemplating how to make the sparse selection of tined food, dry serials and half a packet of cookies more… edible. By the way she was wolfing the food down with delight, it had been, he thought, half an hour well spent.

He refilled her coffee-cup for the second time and put it down next to her, then rounded the counter to go back to his spot across from her. He pushed his own empty plate away, propped his elbows up on the wooden surface and rested his chin on his hands, his gaze and full attention completely fixed on her. She put the fork down and gave him a quick, slightly irritated glance.

"Will you quit staring at me?"

He grinned just a little wolfishly at her.

"Sorry."

He clearly was not.

She shifted a little restlessly, not used to that intense level of attention from him. Patrick Jane-intense. It would take some time getting used to that. She only hoped he'd never do it in public. At least not just yet.

"I mean it, Jane. Stop it. Nothing you haven't seen before."

She flinched at her own words and a slight blush crept into her cheeks. To hide it, she hastily took another sip from her coffee. His grin widened.

"I can't help it. I need to make up for all the times I wanted to stare, but wasn't allowed to."

She snorted.

"As if rules ever stopped you from doing anything you wanted."

"No. But you know I'm not fond of physical pain. And that would been the result of staring. Especially when you were in a bad mood. Which, I have to admit, was when staring was… hardest to avoid."

He took a sip from his tea, then winked at her.

"You're quite sexy when you're angry."

She put her mug down just a little too hard. It made a hollow clunking sound.

"I'm not. And I would not have caused you physical pain. Just maybe…been annoyed with you for a while."

Now it was his turn to snort.

"Ok, maybe, I would have yelled at you. Or kicked you if you didn't stop", she conceded.

"That's more like it."

"This whole discussion is silly, since you never stared at me before."

When he didn't reply, she eyed him suspiciously. "Jane? You didn't… Did you?"

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"You did. Oh god… "

He grinned. "Occasionally. Yeah."

When he saw the look on her face, he added. "But no one ever noticed. Including you. I made sure. I didn't want it to undermine your authority in front of the others."

Another snort, this one containing real anger. Old anger. Hidden anger.

"Now that's a first."

"What?"

"You were undermining my authority _all the time._ In every possible way. One more thing wouldn't have made any difference."

She was angry now. That hadn't taken long, he thought. But better to deal with all the stuff they still had to deal with here and now — and some of it preferably once and for all.

"Yes, it would. Because I only ever did it, when I thought it was unavoidable. Never to hurt you or damage your reputation. You were far to important to me to mess you about just because I could." At the look she gave him, he back-tracked and added hastily.

"Well, okay, I did mess with you because I could sometimes, but mostly to coax you out of a black or distressed mood. But never just to be mean."

"Like when you convinced me we were dying and we weren't?"

He rolled his eyes at her, lifted his head from his hands and let his arms glide down on the wooden worktop in a gesture between defiance and defeat and finally hung his head low with an exasperated sigh.

"That was years ago! You're not really still angry about that?"

"Yes."

"It did make you feel better though", he pointed out from somewhere close to his chest.

"When I punched you. Yes."

He raised his head and his eyebrows. She smiled sweetly at him over the rim of her coffee-mug, both hands wrapped around it. She shrugged.

"But then again, punching you always made me feel better."

He made a face, then grinned at her cheekily, drumming his fingers softly on the worktop and stretching his arms, so his fingers were slowly sneaking over to her side of the counter.

"Glad I finally found a less painful way to assure your emotional well-being in the future."

She laughed, removed one hand from the mug and laid it on top of one of his. Her palm was almost burning hot. His other hand came to rest above hers. They fell silent for a while. When he felt her fingers twitch ever so slightly beneath his, he looked up at her in mild alarm.

"What?"

"Nothing." She avoided his gaze, drew her hand back and used it to push her plate away. A decoy. But he let it go for now, sensing she was contemplating something important. He cleared the plates away and put the kettle back on. He needed another cup of tea. Or more. Depending on what it was she was thinking about now. Well, technically he knew what it was, but since this subject was alarmingly broad and consisted of terrifyingly many layers, he couldn't guess how she'd approach it.

"Why… did you wait so long?"

_Ok._

Apparently by mentioning the other big subject. That was very efficient. But probably a good idea. Deal with all of it. Once and for all.

He switched the gas off, poured hot water into his empty cup and slowly made his way back to the counter. He didn't need to look at her to know how nervous she was about this. He set his cup down and looked up sharply, when he felt a wave of pure panic rolling cross the space between them and hitting him flat in the chest.

"Forget it. I'm sorry. It's not important. I mean, I know why you didn't before… obviously… I meant…"

He reached a calm and steady hand across the sea of turmoil and managed to catch one of hers before she could snatch it away. He squeezed it gently.

"I know what you mean. It's fine. You're right." He sighed. "When I… came back, I promised myself I wouldn't waste one minute, hell, you were the main reason I came back after all."

His voice trailed off into the past. Now it was her hand squeezing his. He looked down at their hands, still joined. Her, still here. Even though she probably wanted to run away screaming. Him, not hiding, not dodging, avoiding, pretending. They were making progress. In their own insane, slightly weird way. He took a deep breath.

"I had it all worked out in my head…"

She gave a soft chuckle.

"No surprise there."

He could hear the fast approach of tears in both the sound and the words.

"But then I realised it wasn't that simple, especially when you made it clear that you didn't even want to work with me again."

"I never…"

He ignored her protest. "I knew I'd finally reached my credit-limit with you. That the next time I did something stupid, you wouldn't probably be able to forgive me again. And…"

He raised a hand to keep her from interrupting him. "And it would have been the right decision on your part."

"Don't say that."

The tears were there now. Not falling yet, but clearly visible. He hated it. Wanted to run to her side and take her in his arms. But he stayed where he was, knew she needed space. So he just squeezed her hand and kept his gaze locked into hers. He smiled at her. He knew it was a sad smile, but it was the only one he could muster.

"I've never met anyone more kind, forgiving, loving and caring in my life. And I've met a lot of people. You have a big heart, Teresa. Having a big heart means it gets damaged that much more easily. And it takes a lot longer to heal. And I've done a lot of damage over the years. Never intentionally. But we both know I did."

She didn't deny it. But she didn't pull her hand back either. For the first time the world was completely silent. Even the wind had stopped howling. Lisbon's brain automatically searched for the sound of a humming fridge. It was weird, what kind of problems the brain came up with to snap the mind out of fear and pain and sadness. When no humming fridge, no howling wind nor Jane broke the silence, she finally did.

"It wasn't like I _knew_ I could never forgive you again. But I was terrified that I might not be able to. Every time we talked I… kept thinking, please Jane, don't say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, please don't, because if you do, I don't what I'll feel. Or do."

"I know."

He reached across with his other hand and wrapped it around her free one. Squeezed it gently.

"I knew I had maybe, possibly one tiny shot left to get this right. But I was…"

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, squeezed both her hands. No hiding. No pretending.

"… scared of losing you. For good. So I decided it was better to do nothing. For the moment. You were clearly avoiding me, so I just tried to be content to be able to look at you from a safe distance. It was better than not being able to see you at all. And when we were finally getting a little back on track…"

She sighed.

"Pike."

"Yeah", he said. "Pike."

She turned their hands on the table so his were resting in hers. She looked at them. For a long time. Jane watched her, waiting patiently for her to speak. When she did, her voice was small, tired and just a little scared.

"I can't get this out of my head. Marcus basically said I kept you around because of all this. Because with everything that's happened I had no possible reason to ever let you get close to me, but didn't need to let you go either. Keep you at a safe distance. What I always do. Because once someone gets really close to me I panic and I run."

She lowered her head. "And he's right. About me. I do run. When it gets serious. I run. Because I am scared of being really close to someone. Scared of a real serious relationship. How messed up is that?"

Jane brushed a thumb softly over her wrist.

"No. You're scared of letting yourself get close to someone and then get hurt. You run, because you'd rather be the first to leave than to be left behind. Which — given all the things that happened in your life so far — you think is inevitable. And I'm afraid I've not really been helpful to lessen this particular fear until now."

She made a noise. It almost sounded like a chuckle.

"Wow. No kidding?"

Her head still hung low and he looked at their hands. Her fingers curled around his. Still there. And not as much tension in them as before. Carefully he drew his hands out of her grasp, slowly, feeling, registering every tiny twitch in hers, eyes fixed on her hanging head, her shoulders, looking for signs of anger or flight. When there were none, he moved around the counter and over to her side, putting one hand on her back and sliding the other up in her hair to softly guide her head to his shoulder. She let him. Fell against him almost with a sigh. He placed a tiny, careful kiss on the top of her head. After a moment her arms went around him, holding on. Tight. He closed his eyes, started to sway them a little from side to side. He felt her smile against his shoulder. A small smile. But a smile. He kissed her head again, tried for a lighter tone of voice.

"You do run. But what no one realises, is that every time you do, you hope the person you are running from, will at least try to catch up with you, show you that you're important enough to run after. To fight for. Which makes this…"  
He tightened his grip on her for a moment.

"… the exception to the rule, because even if you do decide to run, I will always come after you. I will always, always, catch up with you. You won't outrun me."

She laughed into his shoulder.

"Yeah, like a creepy stalker."

He chuckled. "No. Like a man determined to never let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers ever again. No matter what."

"Like I said. Stalker."

He reached around and dislodged her hands from his back, bringing them round and lifting them to his lips to press a long kiss on the top of them. She stared at him, a nervous flicker in her gaze, sensing he was about to say something profound. Or stupid. Or possibly both.

"Teresa, look. I know I caused a lot of this… And I know there is nothing I can do to change that. But…"

"Jane…"

Panic settled finally in. She tried to get out of his grasp, out of the bubble of overwhelming emotion around them, out of this conversation.

"It's ok. Forget it."

She desperately tried to find words to coax him into more teasing and familiar territory. The expression in his eyes didn't change, though. Only the pressure of his hands intensified.

"No. It's not. I hurt you. I know I did. And you know I never meant to. Maybe now, looking back, yes, there were things I would have done differently. But at the time I thought I had no choice. You know I did."

"Yes, and it's fine, really. It's not a big deal anymore…"

"It is a big deal. You said it yourself earlier. It's such a big deal that you didn't know wether you could forgive me if I ever hurt you again. It is such a big deal, that you've been avoiding me for months."

He loosened his grip on her hands until only their fingertips were touching.  
"Point is. I understand why you felt the need to. Trust me. I do. And I know I am lucky you were only avoiding me for a while. You could have chosen never to see me again."

"I would never…"

"I know."

She looked at their hands. Still touching. If only lightly. But still in contact. Still together. She curled her fingers back around his, absurdly needing his warmth and his touch in order to find the strength to say it. It was nothing more than a whisper.

"It hurt."

"I know."

"A lot."

"I'm sorry."

"It took a long time to… get better."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"But it's okay. I understand you never meant to, but…"

"Understanding and feeling are two different things."

"Yeah."

He leaned in and pressed a small kiss to her forehead. Light and soft and almost tentative and lasting no more than a second. Nothing more than a whisper, as quiet as her words had been. But it was enough. Lisbon closed her eyes and leaned her head back against his shoulder. After a moment she said:

"Jane?"

"Hm?"

"I am still a little… afraid."

"Of what?"

"Running."

"You or me?"

"Both of us. But mostly. You."

She felt him kiss the top of her head.

"I won't run."

"You did. Run. A lot. Away from me."

He shook his head.

"No. Never away from you. And I always came back."

"But you ran."

"I did."

"It… scares me."  
She gripped his shirt with both hands. Tight. He almost didn't catch her words.

"Because even if I tried, I know I'd never be able to catch up with you."

"Teresa, I won't run."

"You don't know that."

"I do."

"Prove it."

A challenge she had never meant to make, a word she had never meant to say. But it was out. And there was no way to take it back. And it could ruin everything. One single word. She closed her eyes. Feeling him let go. Step back. When she opened he eyes again, her heart almost stopped.

Haunted eyes looked at her in the approaching dawn. A painfully familiar sight, she thought only ever to see again in her memories. Certainly not after a night like this. His gaze was holding hers, blue melting into green, searching for something. Then they closed. For just a second. Lisbon continued to look at him. He took another deep breath and at the same time she stopped breathing. His expression changed, he changed, Patrick Jane of the past re-emerging right in front of her. She drew in a sharp breath of pain. It hurt seeing him like this, now that she knew what he *actually* looked like without pain or guilt or fear. How alive he could be. Was. Just mere minutes ago. His voice was hoarse, the words coming fast, too fast, stumbling over each other, falling from him, fearful, tense, into the silence.

"I never wanted you to know. I never wanted anyone to know. And I never wanted to go back there, not even for a second. But I see now that I have to."

"Jane, you don't have to… forget what I've said, that was childish, I…"

He ignored her, stepped back into her personal space, took her shaking hands in his and moved them towards his chest.

"The thing is, Teresa. This…"

He pressed her hands to his heart. She could feel it beneath her fingers.

"The only reason this is still beating, is because of you."

She stared at him, wide-eyed. He smiled. A smile sad and thankful and happy at the same time. The implications of his words hit her so hard, her legs almost gave way.

"What?"

His voice was very quiet now.  
"You know I never expected to survive this."

She was hurled back in time, back to the empty, dark, abandoned bull-pen. A couple of chairs, a table. Her phone on it. Buzzing. Inside an evidence bag. The relief she'd felt. The total, indescribable relief. That her greatest fear had not come true. That he hadn't gotten himself killed. By being reckless and careless and stupid in his need for revenge.

"But I actually never _planned_ to survive this."

His words hit her, like a blow to her chest, pushing all the air from her lungs in a sob. She gripped his hands. Hard. Tight. Until it hurt. Both of them.

"No… Jane… no."

She shook her head violently.

"It's ok. It's ok.", he eased one hand out her iron grip and slid it around her shoulders, pulling her close, breathing in her scent, kissing her head, whispering softly into her hair.

"I couldn't. The gun was in my hand and all over sudden your voice was in my head, telling me to stop being childish and selfish."

Another sob shook her, her free hand now grabbing his shirt, holding on tight. She remembered her words from all those years ago. _"There are people who care about you. Who need you."_

He stroked her hair soothingly, continuing in a broken voice, still barely above a whisper.

"And I couldn't. For once. Be childish and selfish. I couldn't let you see me like this. With my brains blown out. I couldn't bear to think what it would do to you, knowing I… died by my own hand. The pain it would bring to you. I knew you'd blame yourself for not stopping me… and I just… couldn't. And then I realised I'd never get a chance of seeing you again, if I did this. That is what made me change my mind. Made me call you. And walk away."

She pushed her face into him, breathing in his scent, kissing his shoulder, forcing herself to let go of his shirt and his hand and wrapping her arms around him, holding him to her, hugging him tight, so she could feel his chest rise and fall and his heart beat. Loud. Fast. Hard. It was the best feeling in the world. He put his arms around her lightly, rested his head against hers. It all seemed so trivial now. The fears of what might be, were nothing compared to the knowledge of what could have been. Running away with no chance of ever coming back. The ultimate vanishing trick. Absolute. Final. Somehow very Jane. But he didn't do it. He chose to stay. She sighed against his shirt.

"You have…" A sob. She tried again. "You have… no idea how many times I listened to that message."

She felt him frown in genuine surprise.

"The FBI gave you your phone back?"

"No."

Another sob. A sniffle. And a shaky laughter.

"I asked Grace to hack into the voicemail-server and retrieve the message for me."

"Really? You? I'm shocked."

She shrugged. "I was angry. And annoyed. And furious."

Jane started laughing. Softly and a little hesitant, but freely again. She only managed a sound that was about 40 percent sob and 60 percent giggle.

Getting there, Jane thought.

He pushed her away a little so he could look at her face. He smiled at her lovingly, rubbing a thumb over her wet cheeks. Her own hands were doing the same now on his face, gently wiping away his own tears. He hadn't even noticed them running down his cheeks. She smiled at him. Still a little teary, but with so much love in her eyes, it took his breath away. He leaned down and kissed her. Softly. Tentatively. Slowly. Lovingly. His lips had barely left hers when he whispered:

"So. Now you know. This…"

He pressed her hands to his heart again.

"Belongs to you now. Private property of Teresa Lisbon. It goes were you go. It's yours."

The last sob that escaped her lips was one of the best kind, all overwhelming love, happiness and laughter and it lead to a kiss so sweet and deep, he never wanted it to end. When it did, she laces her fingers through his and let her body fall into him.

"If this is mine now", she said slowly, nudging his chest with her nose. "You have to promise me one thing."

She straightened up and looked into his eyes. Serious green. Deep. Endless.

"Promise me you'll take better care of it."

"I will."

"I mean it, Jane.", she said in the Don't-mess-with-Teresa-Lisbon-voice he had missed so much for so long.

"No more "I don't care what happens to me"-speeches, no more getting beaten up because of a plan, no more "it doesn't matter if I go to jail". Because it does. To me."

"I promise."

"Good."

She gripped his shirt again with both hands and gave it light tug, then glanced up at him suspiciously and threateningly one more time. But he could see the tiniest of amused sparkles in her eyes.

"And no more running. Because next time you do, it's a punishable offence."

She tapped a finger against his heart.

"Stealing. My property."

He nodded.

"Noted. No. More. Running."

"Good."

He ducked his head to bring his eyes on the same level as hers.

"So we're good?"

She gave it another thought, then nodded gravely once.

"We're good."

He grinned. "Good."

His grin was replaced by a curious frown.

"Uh, there's one more thing…"

She almost rolled her eyes at him. The man never knew when to stop talking, did he? But his tone was lighter, more curious than anything else. So she nudged him.

"What?"

"When I came back. At the beginning. We were… okay-ish. When you bought me the socks? When we were on that stakeout? And then I did something stupid. I'm just really curious to know what it was."

She looked at him in surprise.

"You don't know?"

He shook his head with a little embarrassed laugh.

"I do a lot of stupid things, especially where you are concerned, so I'm afraid I am not entirely sure."

She looked down at her hands, that somehow had found their way back to his heart. She couldn't help grabbing a fistful of shirt again, before she replied.

"The airstream."

He pulled her closer again and rested his chin on top of her head.

"Ah. That."

Her hands grabbed his shirt tighter.

"Yeah, that. Getting a mobile home is really not the way to assure a woman that you are willing to stick around in the long term."

"On the contrary."

"What?"

She lifted her head, making him draw back so she could see his eyes.

"Among other things it was meant to prove a point to you. In the long term. That I could leave at any time. But chose not to. Because I didn't want to. Because I wanted to be where you are."

She stared at him. Blinked. Then snorted. He tilted his head.

"Too subtle?"

"A little."

He frowned, then shrugged it off. "Feared it might be."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"Seriously", she said, hands now uncurling, but not letting go.

"Getting a nice flat, a nice house, even a garden-shed. Anything immobile would have gone — would go — a long way to help ease my fears of being abandoned again."

There was something in his eyes again. A flickering of something old. Painful. He looked away.

"I… " Suddenly her hands were touching nothing but air, when he took a step to the side and went to pour himself another cup of tea.

"Jane?", she asked concerned.

Fresh cup in hand, he leaned back against the counter. A step away from his previous position. A step away from her. He took a sip of tea and shrugged, aiming for a sheepish grin. Stalling. Clearly.

"It's nothing. Just. I honestly wouldn't know what to do with so much…. space. Makes me a bit… uncomfortable."

She wanted to kick herself. She felt stupid. Of course he couldn't stand to have his own flat. Or even a house. The airstream was as close to his old motel-room as it could get, really. A small bathroom, a bed, a table and a small kitchenette. Not much space. For stuff, he didn't own. For memories, he didn't want to invite in. For silences, he didn't know how to fill. For family dinners he'd never have again. Too much empty spaces. It never occurred to her that he had chosen the airstream for that reason.

"That was one reason… " he said in response to her thoughts.

"There's another reason, but…"

Suddenly his face lit up again, the last shadows of the past flickering one more time and then leaving for good. He beamed at her, reached out with his free arm and slipped it around her waist.

"But I have to show you. It's nothing I can explain really…"

She eyed him suspiciously. He grinned over the rim of his cup at her, took a sip, then said teasingly.

"And before you ask, yes, it does require lying down.."

He set the cup down on the counter and pulled her slowly towards him. She closed the distance between them with one step and put her arms around his neck, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Does it now?"

He pulled her against his chest, thrusting his hips at her once, playfully.

"Coincidentally, yes."

She laughed as his arms tightened around her. The laughter subsided when he leaned down and kissed her. The kind of long, soft, sweet, deep kiss, tasting of tea and Jane and love, that she knew she could never do without ever again. When they finally broke apart, he said.

"Though it's not entirely what you think, I…"

The radio spit out a loud cough. Followed by a familiar voice. They both stared at it.

"Lisbon? Jane? Can you hear me? Are you alright?"

Neither of them moved to answer it.

* * *

_A/N: I'm done making predictions on when this is going to end. Only prediction I can make, is that 2 things in this chapter will be the basis for a possible one-shot. And that I will now switch off the computer and drop my head on the table. Exhausted._


	12. In the Light of a New Day

_A/N: Real life is messing up my writing schedule. But it turns out that this now actually *wants* to come to an end, so I don't have to worry about not being able to update. Also glad I managed to make "story-Pike" exit the scene just in time before the real one shows up. So. One final time. Hope you like the last chapter and the epilogue. And thanks. For everything._

* * *

The wooden steps leading up to the porch slept under white frosty sheets. On the third step from the top two pairs of hiking boots — one pair small, dark brown, laced tightly and coming up over the ankles of its owner, the other one sturdy, tongue slightly hanging out, the hooks that usually held shoelaces, empty and hanging down in shame — had crushed the snowy blanket and made smudges of dark wood visible in the early morning light. The right sturdy boot and the left smaller one, as well as the jeans-clad legs that protruded from them, were set so close to each other that neither snow nor wood was visible between them. On the knee that belonged to the leg in the sturdy boots, two hands were resting, fingers intertwined. One small and one bigger one. Neither protected from the cold by gloves.

And it was still cold. A deep cold, peaceful and quiet, almost an apology and an attempt to make up for the violence and noise of the storm that had passed this way before.

The storm, that was finally over. Now, in the light of the morning, the damage it had caused and the amounts of snow it had carried, were clearly visible. It had taken Jane's and Lisbon's combined efforts to completely open the front door against the mountain of snow blocking it. They had stumbled out into the new day, breaths already steaming in the morning frost, hands getting cold again, as soon as they touched the frosty and snow-covered banister on the porch. But the sight was quite spectacular. A bright blue sky was visible above them, the last storm clouds hastily retreating into the west. All around them was white. Not a single branch or tree trunk, not a stone or bush, not even the small gravel road leading around the bend and probably to a bigger road beyond, had kept its shape or colour. There was not a single hard edge to be seen, everything was soft curves and round shapes and made of a thick frosty white, glistening in the slowly rising morning sun. Lisbon had secretly waited for Jane to suggest building a snowman to pass the last minutes before their "rescuers" got here, but then flinched at the thought, remembering they had already had their fair share of winter sculptures. Instead of running into the winter wonderland or even commenting on it, Jane had brushed away the snow from the first step of the stairs and sat down with a sigh, eyes fixed on the end of what was — beneath the snow — the gravel path.

"How long did they say it was going to take?"

"About 20 minutes."

"That leaves ten more minutes then."

There was regret in his voice and she knew her own voice didn't sound much happier either. She sat down next to him. It felt weird being outside, the world — and not just for the sheer amount of snow and white and blue — seemed unreal. She felt like she wasn't even here, like drifting into someone else's dream. To reconnect with her reality, she slipped her left hand into Jane's right one. He placed them carefully on his knee without looking at her. She laced her fingers through his and followed his line of sight into the winter morning. Suddenly he smiled.

"We could come back, you know. For a vacation. One day."

"Yeah."

She turned her head and looked back at the front door, wanting nothing more than to get up and head back inside. Neither had said so, but the moment Pike's voice had announced that rescue was on its way, they had both silently decided it would be best to wait outside. To make the goodbye to this place of sanctuary and comfort a little less painful.

Jane shuffled his feet and pushed some more snow down the steps, almost angrily.

"I don't really want to be rescued", he said.

"Me neither."

"Why don't we just tell them to pick us up in a day or two?"

The corners of Lisbon's mouth twitched.

"And what reason would we give them?"

"That we finally managed to sort ourselves out and need some privacy to celebrate."

"Oh, that reason will go down very well with all of them."

"Cho won't mind", Jane quipped, then tilted his head. "Okay, Pike would probably spontaneously combust, Abbott would be either intrigued or furious, Grace and Rigsby would be upset they weren't here to witness this, Fischer would be massively disappointed…"

"Because she's got a little crush on you…?"

"No, because she'd finally understand that the only person who should work with me — because she actually can control me — is you."

Lisbon gave his shoulder a shove.

"As if."

He grinned. "Well, I'd say there is at least a greater probability now, since you clearly have a shiny new arsenal of creative rewards and punishments at your disposal to keep me in line."

He leaned over and pressed a short, soft kiss to her lips. When he drew back, the grin on his face faded, once he noticed the tiniest of concerned flickers in her eyes.

"I take it that not only is talking to friends and colleagues about a romantic weekend out of the question, but you don't really want them to know at all, do you?", he said. She didn't scoot away, but turned her hand in his and held on tighter. She shrugged and stared down at their hands, not meeting his eyes.

"Not… yet. At least not until Marcus is gone. I don't want him to think…"

"…you were leaving him for me."

"Or worse."

He squeezed her hand back reassuringly.

"Okay. Not a problem. This might actually be fun for a while."

She looked up in alarm at _that_ tone of voice. He grinned at her, that wonderful wide boyish grin that always crept into his face, when he was about to do something childish or silly. She'd always pretended to be annoyed when it showed up, but secretly she had loved it, because of the way his eyes had lit up, even on the darkest of days, if only for a second. Like a flickering light-bulb in an otherwise dark room. But now that the switch had been flicked on for good, that room was shining bright blue 24/7. Almost too bright to look at for longer than a few seconds. She knew this was going to take some time to adjust to. And it probably wasn't the only thing.

By a mile.

And they still had quite a few things to work out. Especially that. Work. Working together would be different, now that they were more than partners and she knew, as long as they kept this a secret, it would be not only different but probably at times very difficult, frustrating and annoying as hell. This was not going to be easy for her. Worth it. But not easy.

This was, after all, still Patrick Jane.

"Could you do me a favour and define "fun" in this context?"

"No." He pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Because I wouldn't like it", she deduced with a frown and pushed him away. He contemplated it for a moment, then wrinkled his nose.

"Proooobably not, no."

"Jane…"

She could practically see his mind shifting into next gear, creating, building, planning the most elaborate setups to steal a kiss from her during working hours or to justify them arriving together on Monday mornings or how to trick Abbott into letting them go on cases as a duo, preferably far away, where no one else knew them or, once the fun of it was gone and he was tiring of this game, how to accidentally spill the news about them without getting the blame for it.

"Relax. It's fine. I'm good at keeping secrets and pretending I don't care."

He gave her a grave look and frowned. "You on the other hand…"

"Yeah, until you decide, you are bored with it", she interrupted him, before she could stop herself.

He looked offended. Drew his hand back.

"No. Until _we_ decide it's a good time to tell everyone."

The tension in his body rose and he sat up straight, his voice now clearly showing an offended and hurt undertone.

"Assuming you _want_ to tell everyone at some point."

She flicked some snow off the stairs with her boot, the movement ending in her rearranging her position on the steps. The side of her thigh and calf that until now shared the warmth of his, were now exposed to the cold winter air. She shivered a little.

"Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"

Another shuffle of a nervously twitching foot. A frown. Tension in the side of her neck, eyes focusing anywhere but him. He watched. Saw. Noticed. Tried not to be angry at what he saw, but somehow couldn't avoid it, a wave of exasperation and impatience and frustration washing over him. He tried to keep his voice steady, but knew she could hear his anger simmering between the words.

"No you don't. You think being with me might reflect badly on you. Professionally and personally. And even though you try not to worry about it and don't want to feel that way, you clearly do."

Lisbon scrambled to her feet and jumped down the steps, boots disappearing in the deep snow at the end of the stairs. She snapped at him:

"Get out of my head."

He wanted to get up, too, but forced himself not to. If he stood up, he'd be towering above her. And he knew it would make things worse. So he clasped his hands around his knees until it hurt, trying to release the angry pressure through the pain and, instead of jumping up, just leaned forward.

"I am not_ in _your head. It's not my fault your thoughts are so loud. Can't help but overhearing them."

"Then just don't _listen_ to them! Ignore them!"

"That's actually what I wanted to suggest to you", he said quietly.

Lisbon looked up at him, anger slowly retreating, her face suddenly showing concern. He had no idea what she saw on his, but suspected it was something close to tiredness. Because he was tired. Of being a man who, in the end, even those who loved him, felt uneasy with, ashamed of, always in need to apologise for. He didn't want to be that man. But however he defined and redefined himself, in the end this was always what it came down to. He closed his eyes. A warm body pressed itself into his side. Then a hand slid back into his. A head leaned against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Jane."

Lips moved against his neck. He smiled. The hand slid out of his again, the lips left his skin, the warm body retreated. He opened his eyes again. Looked into serious green ones.

"And that's good advice", Lisbon said. "And we will tell them. Just not yet, okay?" He nodded and pulled her back towards him. She didn't resist, instead, put a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat under her fingers. Then she grabbed his fleece and tugged at it.

"Hey, what did you mean by "you on the other hand"?"

He cleared his throat.

"Well, we both know you are really not good at putting up a front…"

She tugged at his jacket again in protest.

"I am! You just keep saying that to mess with me."

He rolled his eyes at her.

"No, love, you're not. Which is actually one of your many amazing qualities."

She was about to protest again, but he cut her off. "Just try not to act too suspiciously when they get here."

"Excuse me?"

She stared at him. He tilted his head, had actually the nerve to *wink* at her. She felt her cheeks getting hot. And not in a good way.

"You know. Don't start standing ten feet away from me all the time…"

"I'm getting a real strong urge to do that *right* now actually…"

"… don't wince or flinch or jump, when I touch you…"

"Then don't touch me. Why would you anyway? I mean, if we pretend… oh, you know."

"… or blush if anyone makes a comment about how romantic it is to be stranded in a cabin like that…"

"Only you would ever do that and if you do, I'll kill you."

He shrugged and nodded. "That would solve the whole problem, actually."

"Jane…"

Before he went on, he wrestled free from her grip on his jacket, afraid if she gave it another hard tug, she would actually send him tumbling down the stairs and into the snow. For a moment he had contemplated making her do it, hoping it might be comical enough to get rid of the tension and make them both laugh. On second thoughts he decided against it, because if he managed to get hurt she'd blame herself. And guilt was the last thing he wanted her to feel. He had enough of that for both of them. He took a deep breath.

"I mean it, Lisbon. If you want to keep this between us. Don't. act. weird."

"I never act weird — and if you say "high voice" I'll kick you down the stairs."

Or maybe she wouldn't feel guilty about it after all.

She glared at him now. "This is all your fault anyway."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "How is this my fault? I didn't start this. That was you."

"Excuse me? _You_ kissed me."

"_You_ had romantic dreams about _me_ before I kissed you."

"Nightmare more like…"

She swore, she'd never forgive him for the embarrassing squeaky noise that he made the rest of the sentence turn into.

Because suddenly she was lying down against the stairs, the snow on the steps acting as a soft blanket, keeping her back from getting hurt by hard wood. Which she probably wouldn't have cared about. Or felt at all. Because Jane's hands were in her hair now, one on the back of her head, one behind her ear, a thumb brushing over that spot just below that made her whole head spin. Though that might also be a result of the look in his eyes, just before he leaned down and kissed her, pushing his tongue into her mouth, turning the words of protest on her lips to moans when he kissed her deeper, hands holding her head, his body pressed against hers so closely, she could feel his heart beat fast and hard, despite the layers of clothing between them. A foot moved slowly along her calf, a hand now sliding out of her hair and coming to rest on her neck, fingers softly tracing her jaw-line. He broke the kiss for a second to brush a thumb over her cheek and to look into her eyes again, then leaned back in. But before he could kiss her again, she had drawn his head down and started her own advance on his mouth, while running her hands greedily through his hair. For one ridiculous moment she really felt tempted to call Cho and tell him they were taking the next two days off. Or weeks.

_Cho._

_Shit._

She drew back, ignoring the tiny sound of protest he made. Or was that coming from her? Before she could find the answer to the question, Jane hauled his body into a sitting position again and pulled her up as well. Grinning like a kid, cheeks red from the heat and the cold. When she raised an eyebrow at him, he explained.

"I promised myself last night, I will never let any morning, any night, any day, any argument or any conversation we have, ever end in anger."

She laughed at his adorably serious expression and wiped snow from her hair and jacket.

"Okay. But I wasn't _that_ angry."

He shrugged and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear.

"The day isn't over yet. Consider it advance payment."

She glanced at the road. The sound of two car engines shattered the silence. Just as the beam of strong headlights crept around the corner, she leaned back in and pressed a short kiss to his lips.

"We might have to discuss your credit limit at some point."

Then she got up, straightened her jacket and walked down the steps and towards the approaching cars.

Jane got up, but stayed where he was. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and watched the cars come to a halt. Cho got out of the first one, eyes already scanning the area. When his gaze met Jane's, he smiled briefly and nodded once. Jane smiled and nodded back. A few seconds later Pike emerged from the second car. Their car, Jane noted. So they had managed to repair the damage the sheriff had done. Jane clenched his fists in his pockets, while he watched Pike striding towards Lisbon and enveloping her in a hug. But just seconds later he rocked happily back on the heels of his boots, when he saw her body go tense and her arms hanging limply at her side, eyes darting around almost panicky at the awkwardness of the moment. She *really* wasn't good at putting up a front, but in this case it was fine with him. Pike stepped back and scratched his head, then looked up at the cabin, for the first time registering Jane's presence. Jane nodded to him. Pike nodded back. Jane went slowly down the stairs.

"Rescue! Finally! We were getting bored up here, guys. There's only so many time I can beat Lisbon at Scrabble."

Flinch. But only a tiny one. Before he could wink at her, she flashed a warning look at him. So he resigned himself to a broad, relaxed grin. When Cho, Pike and Lisbon reached the stairs, Jane leaned down and said to Pike in a conspiratorial whisper.

"She was pretty angry after the last game. My last word was "Jape". Means "joke" and is both a noun and a verb… Oh, and in the 15th century, it was used as a slang word for sex. Scored me 26 points. And won me the game."

Lisbon laid a hand on Pike's arm and nodded her head towards Jane. "Oh, but I was good though, you should have seen him. He was worried. I had a good last word, too. "Cockalorum", which describes a boastful and self-important person. Shame it only scored me 20 points."

Cho crossed his arms in front of his chest, unimpressed and — unlike Pike — also unconfused.

"So, you two are ok", he summed up the conversation.

Jane nodded. "Right as… snow. But the law enforcement community of Barnes Hollow wasn't so lucky."

"We know. We found the bodies", Pike said and raised his head to cast a glance up the porch and into the cabin. "Took some time to dig them out. Was quite a heavy storm. You were lucky."

Jane took a step to the side, effectively blocking Pike's line of sight.

"Yes, we were. We found this place on the map and got here before the storm really started to get nasty. No one was here, but thankfully the lock wasn't that complicated to…"

Pike raised his eyebrows. "You broke in?"

Jane rolled his eyes. "Yes. It was an emergency. We really didn't want to freeze to death."

"Forget about the lock", Lisbon said. "Okay. Short version. What happened was…"

While she told them about the sheriff and the ravine and the frozen dead people, Jane sat back down on the stairs, stretching out his legs across them. Pike, who had made a move to climb up the steps, stopped and leaned against the railing instead. Lisbon could sense he was still curious about the cabin. Not necessarily because he wanted to check if they had actually been playing board games. She knew his father had owned a cabin and he used to spent his summer holidays there, so this was probably just an attempt to access happy memories through new experiences.

God, she sounded like Jane.

When she saw Pike contemplate his chances to slip past Jane on the narrow stretch of the tread currently unoccupied, she quickly sat down there. She felt she didn't want him to go into the cabin either. Even though it was irrational and childish, this was their place. A part of their memories now. And she found she was as reluctant as Jane was to share it with anyone.

Jane was surprised when Lisbon sat down next to him, especially given the fact, that the only tension he read in her was the same he felt. Not letting Pike — or Cho — go past them into the cabin. Cho shot him a curious glance, at which Jane, seemingly unaware of doing so, brushed some snow off the railing. When Cho looked at his watch and then stuffed his hands into his pockets, Jane smiled. He'd gotten the message.

_Not brushing it off, Cho._  
_Ok. If relevant, tell me later. If not. Don't bother._

Well, a lot later, probably, Jane thought. But eventually we will, my friend. And definitely relevant.

"So that's it basically", Lisbon said a few minutes later. "We looked at the map, found this place, came here and waited for the storm to pass."

"Smart", Pike said.

"Thank you. But just lucky, mostly", Jane said.

"The sheriff, huh?" Cho said, before Pike could notice the teasing in Jane's words and act on them. The last thing he wanted in all this mess, was those two getting into a fight. "Never saw that coming."

"Me neither", Jane said, rubbing his hands together. The cold was slowly seeping back into his bones again.

"Which is odd. Someone this crazy? I should have spotted something."

"Meaning you were not on top of your game, Jane?"

"No, meaning when we met him in his office he wasn't crazy yet, Pike."

"How do you go insane overnight?", Cho asked.

"You don't. I thought of hypnosis, but there were no signs."

"We checked his place yesterday. The wife is gone. Left a note and took the dog", Pike added.

"Knew it", Jane mumbled under his breath.

"Sorry?"

"Never mind. Did you find anything occult, pagan, new age at his place?"

"Elementary, you mean." Pike grinned at Lisbon. Jane rolled his eyes.

"No. The place was pretty empty. And dull", Cho replied.

"DVD collection? Books? Games? What about his computer? Was there something on his computer?", Lisbon asked.

Cho and Pike looked at each other. Jane suddenly got up in a fluid movement that was way too elegant for anyone trying to get up from a slippery staircase with open boots and without grabbing a handrail for balance. Lisbon smiled. She could feel excitement radiating from him. He was on to something.

"Where is his computer?"

"There was none."

Jane blinked. Smiled. That smile that told her he had just figured out something really important.

"That's what's been missing. That's what I didn't see on the photos."

"Missing?"

"Did you find a computer? A laptop? At any of the other crime-scenes?"

"At their work-places, yes. At their homes, no."

"Interesting."

"Except for the sheriff, they were all new-age nutters. Maybe they didn't believe in technology", Pike suggested.

Jane tipped a finger against the side of his nose, seemingly lost in deep thought, then tilted his head.

"Maybe… We'll see."

"We pulled some resources from the nearest field office and forensics are finally here. Sheriff never made the call", Cho said.

"Figures", Lisbon replied.

"So. I suggest we wrap things up here for now and then we'll head back to HQ tomorrow, re-group, re-evaluate everything we have so far and take it from there."

"Hello, sunny Texas", Jane gave a little hoot and waved at the blue sky.

"I'm really glad to get out of this cold", Lisbon agreed.

"I could use a long hot shower", Jane said and this time he did wink at her.

But she didn't scowl or frown or glare at him. Just smiled sweetly and replied:

"You could use a shower. Full stop."

And then she got up, stretched her back and jumped down the last step into the snow. Jane wanted to run after her, spin her around and kiss her until the end of the day. Hell, the end of time, if she'd let him. Which she probably wouldn't if he gave into this urge right now.

He sighed and made a face.

"Don't worry, man. You don't smell", Cho reassured him.

"Thanks, Cho."

"But it's a good idea anyway. Go to the motel. Get a shower. Get changed. And then we meet up at the sheriff's office. Pike and I, we'll head back to the crime-scene. See how the tech guys are doing. But before you go…"

Cho pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket. The contents seemed quite heavy and made a metal clinking sound. He tossed the bag over to Jane, who caught it easily.

"Fix that lock, will you? And put a seal on the door. Until we can send someone up to deal with this properly."

Cho said, turned around and headed towards the car. Pike was already in the passenger seat and even though the sun made it impossible to see through the windshield, Jane knew the man was looking at him. He gave him a cheery wave. Behind the windshield nothing moved.

Jane and Lisbon watched the white car melt into the white morning, leaving nothing but a few light grey tracks in the fresh snow around the cabin. Lisbon came slowly up the steps, scanning the road ahead, waiting until she was sure the car was gone. Then she turned towards Jane and hit his arm with the back of her hand.

"Idiot!"

Jane laughed at her furious expression.

"It's not funny! This is exactly what I was afraid of!"

He reached out a hand towards her, but she dodged him and stepped away. He stopped laughing and looked at her apologetically.

"I'm sorry."

"I _knew_ you wouldn't be able to resist!"

She gestured wildly with her hands, until he caught them and brought them to his lips to soothe her.

"And I knew you would rise to the challenge", he replied.

She gave him a sour smile.

"Oh, so this was a test, was it?"

He tilted his head, let go of her hands and sat back down on the steps, smiling up at her.

"A small assessment to see if we needed to work on your skills. But I have to say, I'm impressed."

Lisbon sat down next to him, grumbling.

"I'm not sure if this is a compliment or an insult."

She let out a long breath and folded her hands in her lap.

"That was awkward. And a little unreal. Weird", she admitted in small voice.

He had to agree. Somehow now that they were actually outside, talking to other people, time somehow moving on again, the world moving on, it felt… unreal. Jane decided to make it real, though. Right now. He pulled Lisbon back into his arms with a fierce intention to re-affirm everything in the light of the new day. She felt the urgency of his kiss mirrored in her own feelings, pushed him back on the steps, straddling him, kissing him, sliding a hand inside his jacket, battling layers of clothing with a tiny impatient frown, until she finally reached warm skin. She felt Jane's breath hitch against her lips, felt his hands grabbing her waist, sliding under her own jacket, then — naturally much faster than she had managed — feeling his cold fingers on her own skin, fingertips tracing her abdomen softly, teasingly. He moaned, when she moved against him. Then his right foot hit the plastic bag and it tumbled down the steps with an offended metal cry. They broke apart, panting. Lisbon half-turned and cast a curious look at the bag in the snow.

"Cho insists I fix the lock. No idea how he knew I'd broken it. He scares me sometimes" Jane said, voice hoarse and just a little breathless. "And he wants us to put an FBI-seal up before we go. Like this was a crime-scene. I hope forensics don't snoop around in there, otherwise we might be faced with exposure a lot sooner than we want to…"

His voice trailed off and he looked up towards the cabin. Now she was the one who could hear his thoughts loud and clear.

"I don't think Cho is going to believe us, if we tell him it took you longer than five minutes to fix that lock…"

Jane sighed. Five minutes was not merely enough time for the things he'd had in mind. And apparently not enough time for the things she'd had in mind either. They sat a few more minutes beside each other in silence. Finally, when a solitary cloud blocked out the sun and the cold was getting worse, Jane got up, grabbed the plastic bag and shuffled off towards the door. Lisbon turned, so her back was now resting against the railing and watched him. It took him three minutes to repair the lock. And another ten seconds to tape the door off. When he was done, he put a hand on the dark wood and patted it lightly. She smiled.

"What now?", she asked him. He took her hands in his and pulled her up.

"Deal with the remaining case stuff today and then… home."

He slid an arm around her and smiled. Her hands were resting over his heart. She looked at them, head low.

"And where exactly is that?"

Jane pressed a kiss and a smile to her forehead.

"Where the heart it. Wherever we want it to be."

She gave a snort and pushed him, just a little.

"That sounds like an awful valentine's postcard. Stop being so soppy."

He rolled his eyes at her, lips still brushing her skin.

"Fine. Your place then", he mumbled. She patted his chest lightly.

"I thought you wanted to show me something."

"I thought you didn't like the airstream."

"I never said I didn't like the airstream. I just didn't like the thought of you living in it."

He shrugged. "Well, see, about that… I have the feeling I won't for much longer and in that respect it does make things a lot less complicated."

"In what way?"

He grinned.

"Well, I figured that in the end it wouldn't make much sense to have two houses with two sets of everything only to waste an awful lot of time on merging everything back to one household again."

She blinked confused at his happy grin and the amused sparkle in his eyes. It took her a second, then she shook her head.

"You are kidding me. You were thinking *this* far ahead?"

He shrugged.

"Well, obviously I wasn't *sure* and there were other factors to consider, but…"

He leaned back against the railing, tightening his hold on her.

"yeah… the thought had crossed my mind. You know me, Lisbon. I play the long game. Always the long game."

She laughed, then tapped a finger against his heart.

"Speaking of games and home ownership…"

"Hm?"

She traced a finger slowly down his chest, biting her lower lip.

"I was wondering. Does my new property extend any further than your heart?"

"Probably."

"In that case, I think I might need to explore the… boundaries in more detail then... Just, you know, to get more familiar with the whole area."

He nodded gravely at her. "Always a prudent course of action."

"Action? Yes. Prudent? I don't really think so…"

He laughed, then kissed her. A long, deep kiss, full of love and promise and everything he was, not hiding, not holding back. When they finally broke apart, Lisbon cast her eyes once more to her hands on top of his heart. Then she looked up at him with a flicker of insecurity so small, he'd almost missed it.

"Before I forget. Can we make a quick stop on the way home?", Jane asked

Lisbon frowned at him.

"Where?"

"Shopping mall. Doesn't matter which."

"Why?"

The flicker of insecurity was now making way for a rather less subtle flicker of panic.

"Insurance."

"What? Why?"

"For you. So you have physical evidence that this *is* going to last 20 years. Or more."

"Jane, you don't have…"

He felt her leaning back, struggling to get out of his reach. He held on tight, pulled her back, rested his forehead against hers, waited until she finally stopped fidgeting nervously in his embrace, his calmness slowly pushing the nervous energy out of their combined personal space. When her hands released his jacket from their iron grip and lay flat on his chest once more and she closed her eyes, he gave her nose a nudge and whispered.

"Sweater."

"What?"

"I need a sweater with a smiling reindeer on it. See I thought…"

And then she hugged him so fiercely, he didn't really have enough air in his lungs anymore to finish the sentence. Oxygen depravation continued to be a slight problem for quite a while longer, although for a different reason. When forehead was resting against forehead again, when blonde curls were brushing against dark straight hair, when breathing finally returned to normal, she nudged his nose back without opening her eyes.

"Patrick?"

"Hm?"

He smiled, eyes still closed, and simply tapped a finger against hers on his chest.

"It'll be fine, Teresa. More than fine. It'll be great. Trust me."

She smiled back at him. And did.


	13. Epilogue: Circle of Life

The streets of Barnes Hollow were empty, all windows and doors closed, most even still heavily boarded up, even though the storm had already been over for more than 24 hours and the air was cold but calm, the sky blue and bright. What had started as a simple and familiar health-and-safety-measure against the forces of nature, seemed now to have turned into a desperate attempt to build a line of defence against the forces of evil. Cho couldn't really blame the people of this small town at the foot of the mountain for doing so. It was what people did. Improvise. Adapt. Make the best of things. And in a few days, they would calm down, start talking about how no one saw "that" coming or how the sheriff had always seemed "odd" and they would take down the boards and turn them into a defence against the cold by burning them in various fire-places. Circle of life. Without talking lions or baboons wearing make-up. Somehow a lot less creepy, Cho thought.

The sound of a door closing and the crushing of boots on ice-covered concrete cut through the silence and Cho's thoughts. He looked up. Pike came over, overnight-bag over his shoulder, car-keys in hand.

"Ready to go?"

He tossed the keys to Cho and turned around, when more boots carefully crossed the ice-covered pavement. Since they'd already discussed everything case-related, exchanged details, comments and complaints about their various travel-arrangements during, and said their good-byes after breakfast, there was no need for further discussion or small talk. Which was good. Because all of them wanted to get out of here as fast as possible. For various reasons. So Jane and Lisbon just smiled, waved at them and headed for the second car. Cho waved back. Pike just nodded. And even that had taken some serious effort.

"I'd be smiling, too, if I was them", Cho said.

"What?"

"Getting last direct flights back home?"

"Oh, that", Pike said.

"I don't even want to know how Jane managed that", Cho said.

"Hm", Pike replied, his attention clearly not focused on his vocal cords, but on the two people further down the street. He watched Jane lean closer to Lisbon, gesturing with his hands and apparently telling her something funny, because she started laughing and shook her head in amusement. Pike looked at them walking to the car side by side, comfortable around each other, laughing, relaxed.

Teresa. Laughing, relaxed, comfortable.

Nothing like the woman he had last seen in front of the sheriff's office standing in the cold, an awkward and painful silence enveloping her, eyes tired and cheeks pale. Suddenly he was angry. He rammed his hands into his pockets, then pulled one out again to point an accusing finger at Jane.

"He's reckless. Look at him. Joking as if nothing has happened. They could have gotten killed. He could have gotten HER killed! Talking her into going into that ravine in a freaking snow-storm! That man…"

Cho looked at Jane and Lisbon, not acknowledging the pleading stare asking for agreement Pike gave him right now. He didn't want to encourage the man to throw a fit. But he had a feeling that any form of encouragement was, unfortunately, not really necessary anyway. And was proven right.

"I don't know, what they all see in him, Cho. He's nothing but a liability. I don't get why she sticks with him. Why anyone sticks with him. And what was this cryptic "maybe" about the missing computers? If he knows something about the case he needs to tell us."

"He will."

"When?"

Cho shrugged.

"When he's ready to. When he's sure, he's right about this."

"And you are okay with this? This is nuts!"

"This is Jane."

Pike raised his hands above his head in a dramatic gesture.

"Exactly!"

Cho kept his eyes on Jane and Lisbon and just said matter-of-factly.

"I'm okay with this. We'll solve this in the end. We always do."

Cho blinked and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Which was the equivalent of a deep sigh. He had a feeling that this was going to be a very long and very annoying drive to the airport. But then again, he'd had lots of experience ignoring external monologue from upset travel-companions while navigating winter roads.

He cast a reproachful look at Jane's back.

And blinked.

He watched Jane putting his hand on the small of Lisbon's back in order to steer her towards the driver's side. As usual, Jane's hand fell from her back, once directions of travel had been confirmed by her starting to step around him. But then, just as Jane's arm was back down by his side, in the very second Lisbon went past him, he saw their shoulders brush, saw their hands touch and saw her fingers curl around his, just for the fraction of a second.

"Cho? Are you listening to me?"

He slapped Pike's shoulder.

"Sure, man. Lets go."

While Cho watched Lisbon and Jane drive off into the bright snowy day, he heard Pike toss his bag on the back seat. It hit something with a dull clunking sound. Both bag and the unknown item tumbled to the floor.

"What the hell did he *do* in the backseat of this car?"

Cho looked up into the white winter sky and took a deep breath.

He slid behind the wheel and felt the car shake, when his current travel-companion dropped heavily into the passenger seat. Pike made a sniffing sound, then groaned. Cho ignored it and started the car. It came to life with a growl and a roar and a chuckle.

"God, Cho, I hate the smell of cold tea."

_Awkward. Long. Drive. Ahead._

Cho sighed.

And smiled.

Because it was worth it. Every awkward second of it.

* * *

**A/N:** Done. This is it. The end. As sad as I am that this is over, I am also relieved I finished it now, because I won't have a lot of time to write in the coming weeks. But there will be a one-shot related to this, probably next weekend or so. And if I get a few days off over easter, I hope to start a proper sequel to this story. After all, there is still a case to solve…

There is so much more I really want to say, but I think I've pretty much used up all the good words I had. Also a bit teary now, because just three months ago I thought I could never write anything ever again. And now look at this… mountain of words *lol*. I hope you enjoyed this and thank you so much for coming along on this slightly weird winter journey. And thanks to my best friend for making me do this and being there. Every step of the way. It means more than I can ever say.


End file.
